Travel

Solomon Epstein

Solomon Epstein
Saint Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Olga Egudina
Date of interview: October 2007

Solomon Borissovich Epstein invited me to his apartment-studio situated in one of the most beautiful districts of St. Petersburg.

We had our talk surrounded by his beautiful paintings. Solomon Borissovich is talented for all spheres of life:

he is a worthy party in a conversation, an author of the very interesting memoirs about war, and a brave soldier in the past.

One can be envious of his exact memory. When you listen to Solomon Borissovich, his stories seem to come alive and you become able to hear sounds and smell…

  • My family background

I know nothing about my great-grandparents. My paternal and maternal grandfathers were born and lived in Belarus near Vitebsk. My maternal grandfather’s name was Ruman. As far as I understand, he was a tzaddik of the local community. He had got several daughters. My paternal grandfather lived about 60 kilometers far from Vitebsk - in Velizh. My grandfather Ruman was short and rather weak, very kind and silent, and my grandfather Hirsh-Leyb-Meir Epstein was a joker, a horse-lover. He was very tall and black-haired (looked like a gypsy), very cheerful. Both grandfathers were very kind.

Grandfather Hirsh had got many children, and not only girls. He was engaged in carrying goods between Velizh and Vitebsk. He got acquainted with grandfather Ruman and his family somehow. Ruman was a tailor and grandfather Hirsh sent his son Boris (Berele) to Ruman as an apprentice. That was the way Berele found his love (my future Mom). I keep his love-letter written in 1916.

The letter was written in Russian, and the first letters of lines spelled my mother's name Ester. By that time Daddy had finished 4 or 5 classes of gymnasia and knew Russian well, though my both grandfather’s mother tongue was certainly Yiddish.

My father was a very talented person, a real artist of tailoring. Later in Leningrad he became one of the most famous local tailors. People of high position (now we call them VIP) lined up to get his services. They paid him much money, because everybody knew him to be a magician able to turn an ordinary person into a real picture. He was left-handed to no profession: a furrier, a glover, and even a shoemaker.

I do not remember my grandmothers very well. Grandmother Rachel, Ruman’s wife wore a wig and I remember her bald head under the wig. When it became clear that my hair became shockingly red, everybody said that it was passed down from my grandmother (she was red-headed). Haya was Hirsh’s wife. She was a person of cast-iron character, completely different from her husband.

But here it is necessary to take into account that she had to take care of a large family, and it was not easy: Hirsh traveled much and his family was not a burden for him. Last year I made portraits of my grandfathers from memory. For the last time I saw them at the age of two and a half (by the way, I have no photos of grandfather Hirsh). At the same time I am absolutely sure that in my picture my grandfather looks real, I felt like giving birth to him by means of my brush. I kept a photo of grandfather Ruman, but strangely enough it distracted me from my work. I put it aside and did not look at it during my work on his portrait.

My parents got married in Vitebsk in 1921. Both my brother and I were born there, too. David was born in 1923, and I was born in 1925. A year later our family moved to Leningrad and we started our life there (I know nothing about the reason). We lived in Zhukovskogo Street, in the city centre, in a communal apartment 1. I lived in that house during 50 years. For the first time I left it in March 1942 for evacuation (we moved along the Road of Life 2 across the Ladoga Lake).

After the end of the war I returned home to that house and lived there till 1975. By now the house is reconstructed, and some very rich people live there. When we made it our home in 1924, our apartment looked rather strange: the floor of one its part was situated higher than that of the other one. Between these levels there was a stairway of 9 steps. In our apartment there lived 6 families (they had got 9 children (boys) in total). So we used to slide down from that stairway on my father’s furriery boards.

When I reached the age of 7 (and David was 9), parents brought us to the House of Art Education for children in Chaykovskogo Street. The House was founded by 2 friends, 2 enthusiasts of art education for children Solomon Davidovich Levin and Konstantin Alexandrovich Kordabovsky. They invited remarkable teachers. There we studied the following subjects: drawing, painting, sculpture, architecture, archeology, history, music, scenic movement. In 1937 Palace of Pioneers was opened and our House moved there. Solomon Davidovich became a manager of the art department, and Konstantin Alexandrovich went on teaching children. I studied in his group till the beginning of the war. Besides I studied at school (certainly). My school was situated near our house. Behind our school there was a small garden, where we played lapta in summer and skated in winter.

Later I changed my school for the school #32 (it was financed by the railway administration). I studied there till 1939. But in 1939 our class was moved to the school near our house for some reason. Therefore I found myself at my first school again. I studied there during blockade, too. We were members of the school fire-fighting squad, but I’ll tell you about it later.

At school I turned out to have an inquiring nature, therefore it was difficult for me to concentrate upon certain subject. Everything was interesting for me. I read a lot of popular books, I also was interested in biographies of outstanding physicists: Einstein, Nils Bor, and others. [Albert Einatein (1879-1955) was an outstanding physicist; author of the theory of relativity; a Nobel prize winner; Nils Bor (1885-1962) was one of the founders of the modern physics.] I was also very fond of geometry and stereometry. I liked to draw very much. My teacher of mathematics used to draw carelessly, and it conflicted with my concept of exact science, therefore I did not like her.

My brother and I loved uncle Vladimir, the husband of my father's sister very much. He was a strong and kind Russian man, a naval officer. He was our idol. Uncle also loved us, especially David. David also was a remarkable guy. He also was tall and kind. I painted his portrait many years after his death.

Uncle Vladimir took care of David. He advised him to enter Naval School after 9 classes. That Naval School cadets used to be invited to enter the Military College named after Frunze, and David became its cadet after finishing his Naval School. David was much taller and stronger than me. He had got sports categories in 6 different kinds of sports. My brother was handsome and purposeful. He perished in the battle near Stalingrad during the war.

David was a yachtsman (a steersman of the first class). He often took me with him to his yacht club. I got used to work as a sailor and became very fond of yachts for their beauty. Once David brought home a second-hand album Instruction for Fans of Sailing by a Swedish yachtsman. That album was full of photographs of yachts, and it choked me up. There were also drawings for construction of yachts, and I decided to start making models. I saved money (mother gave me some money for lunch at school), bought wooden rulers and cut details for yachts.

At home I had got 3 small assembly jigs, where I assembled my yachts. Unfortunately all of them were lost during the blockade 3. So during my childhood I was crazy about several things: fine arts, models of yachts, sailing sport and contests in physics and mathematics. That was the reason why after the end of the war I handed in applications to 3 colleges: the Academy of Arts, the University and the Shipbuilding College.

Now I understand that our parents brought us up very well, but according to the rules of that time. We were brought up as persons of excellent qualities: ideal people, absolutely unpractical. Our parents believed that a person should have heavenly thoughts and be honest-minded. I have been a romanticist since my childhood. But I guess that our parents practiced the only proper method of upbringing. I believe that otherwise all people have to go on their hands and knees and grow dog-teeth.

In our apartment there lived another Jewish family of Rosenfelds. They had got 2 boys, our coevals. During our first years in Leningrad, a rabbi from yeshivah came to teach us Yiddish. But the time came when it was necessary to finish our studies and rabbi disappeared. I do not know Yiddish at all 4. Parents spoke Yiddish only when they wanted to keep something from us. We never celebrated Jewish holidays and never attended the synagogue.

Mom and Dad were born in 1890s. Mom finished a gymnasium, and Daddy studied several years in cheder. Mom frequently said as a joke that she had married an uneducated person. In Leningrad Mom entered the College of Foreign Languages, graduated from it and taught German language at school. At home we had collected works of Schiller in German. [Johann von Schiller (1759-1805) was a German poet and philosopher.] As for me, I read Schiller’s works translated by Zhukovsky. [Vassiliy Zhukovsky (1783-1852) was a Russian poet and translator.]

I do not remember any political events discussed by our parents. As far as we were concerned, we were pioneers and Komsomol members [5, 6] and we took it with great enthusiasm. On the whole, our childhood was very happy. The Palace of Pioneers protected us from the nightmare around us (as I understand it now): in fact it was the time of Great Terror 7. And we were fine (like inside a cocoon).

Parents had got many friends. I was surprised when I noticed that one of them had suddenly stopped visiting us. Parents used to explain: he had left. Later I understood that those people were arrested. One day I was playing in the street near our house, when my father told me passing by ‘Solomon, Kirov 8 was killed.’ I guess I remember it because father looked very excited: he understood that a great wave of reprisals would follow.

Father earned money by sewing. But when authorities started persecutions of private craftsmen, he had to find job of a worker at the Aluminium factory. There he worked perfectly well, too. He was awarded a copper teapot for his work. Later he found job of a cutter at a workmen's cooperative association, but there it was necessary to fulfill the plan. Father could not stand it and got back to his work at home.

We had good neighbors. They never informed authorities about father’s work at home (at that time private enterprises were not encouraged). In general, we called our neighbors our relatives. Of course there was my father’s great merit in it: he was a person of unusual charm and was able to get on with different people.

Soon after our arrival to Leningrad, father got acquainted with a GPU 9 officer (somewhere) who occupied a large apartment (later we lived in that apartment). His name was Ivan Alexandrovich Yermilov. He was very good. He liked my father so much that invited all of us to his apartment and placed 2 rooms at our disposal. Later authorities started to reduce space per person in living accommodation and his apartment became communal. Yermilov was a drunkard. Under the influence of drink he liked to shoot with a gun and did it right in the apartment (once he broke the window).  

Among our blood relatives I remember aunt Sonya (my father's sister and the wife of uncle Vladimir, a naval officer). She was a true Komsomol member of 1920s. She was a cheerful beauty. Daddy had got another sister: aunt Manya. Her husband was a German communist. During the Great Terror he was expelled from the Party and took it hard. But when after the end of the war he was suggested to join the Party again, he refused flatly. Father’s sisters lived in Leningrad not far from us. Father had got 2 brothers: uncle Lev and uncle Naum.

They also were staunch supporters of the communist ideas. Naum was killed when he was one of the party searching for excess of provisions in villages. Rich peasants did not agree to give their grain to authorities and often tried to prevent those actions. Possibly that people killed Naum: they attached stones to his feet and drowned him.

Now I’d like to tell you about my brother David in detail. I already told you that he was a remarkable person. I saw him for the last time in the window of the Military College named after Frunze. He waved a farewell. It was right before the evacuation of his College to Astrakhan. It was supposed that cadets would finish their studies in Astrakhan and go to the front line as naval officers.

But their studies lasted not long. When Stalingrad battle 10 was in its heat, all cadets were sent there into the hell. Most of them were killed. Recently I painted David’s portrait. He is about 19 years old there, but I never saw him at the age of 19. Here I’d like to read you his letter he wrote to Aunt Sonya. David wrote it before their departure to the front line.

Dear Aunt Sonya!

I am sorry that it took me so much time to write you back. We have just finished the 2nd course, but the situation requires our departure to the front line. At first they wanted to send us there as privates, but later they changed their mind and gave us the ranks of officers. At present we are near to finish the infantry school and become lieutenants of infantry. So my naval service has terminated, but I survived. It can't be helped, because it is necessary. Soon I’ll be at the front line. If I manage to survive in Stalingrad, I’ll fight further. We’ll see! 

I received the last letter from my parents a long time ago. At present I know nothing about them. I guess very soon the front line will get close to their location and it is useless to write them.
That's all for today.
Write me please while it is possible.
David,
the former man-of-war's man,
now the infantryman.

  • Growing up during the war

Now I’d like to get back to my childhood. Of course Leningrad of my childhood was absolutely different. There were plenty of horses, and the city was very odorous. I remember holidays of melting snow. In winter when the city got covered with snow, people used to arrange pyramids of boards in city yards. They put a stove inside the pyramid and burned wood in it. Snow was brought from all the nearest yards and thrown into the pyramid. The yard was filled with a tasty smoke of birch fire wood and steam. For children it was a presage of spring and a real holiday. People used to store firewood in their yards in piles. It was very interesting to play boyish games between woodpiles.

It was Mom who kept the house. We had no assistants. We were not poor, because my father was doing well. But I do not remember any non-essentials. We were satisfied with food and dressed tidy, no more. We used to spend summer holidays in Velizh. Father often got permits to recreation centers 11 or sanatorium (in Essentuki, for instance), because he was ill with gastric ulcer. [Essentuki is a town in Stavropol Krai, located at the base of the Caucasus Mountains.] Together with Mom we went to Essentuki without father on June 21, 1941. So the beginning of the war found us en route.

On June 21, 1941 we left Leningrad for Essentuki by train. We heard the news about the war near Rostov-on-Don. As we reached Essentuki, we rushed to buy return tickets, but managed to get them only for July 18. Our way back was much more difficult: a lot of stops to give way for troops trains. I do not know the reason, but our train was left by the steam locomotive 15 km away from Tula, and we had to walk to Tula. From Tula we went round Moscow (it was already closed) via Kaluga, Vyazma, Rzhev, Likhoslavl having no information about the situation. At last we managed to arrive in Leningrad at the turn of July.

The front line approached quickly, and people started evacuation from Leningrad. My elder brother David was evacuated together with cadets of the Military College named after Frunze by one of the last echelons. I saw him shortly before their departure, he waved me from the College window. For the last time... Mom, Daddy and I remained in the city. Fascists tightened the blockade.

Like all other senior pupils in the besieged city, I was on duty on roofs, put out fire-bombs, later fought fires as a member of fire-brigade (we were happy to get asbestos overalls and sparkling yellow helmets of Roman style). Winter frosts were in.

One frosty night I was on duty on the roof and saw our plane ramming a German bomber. The picture stamped in me: the black sky, the white cross of the German plane in the light of searchlights, our pursuit plane, the wing of the German plane slowly falling down, and tremendous roar. Fortunately the parts of the crashed planes were strewed over the territory of the Tavrichesky garden and citizens did not suffer. Next day people were informed that Sevastyanov, a young pilot had fulfilled a ram attack (one of the first attacks of that kind during the war).

Winter frosts were followed by real famine. In March 1942 our family (we were on the verge of dystrophy) was evacuated from Leningrad. We crossed the Ladoga Lake covered with spongy ice. In Yaroslavl we stayed about a month coming to life. Then we moved to Stavropol, later to Kizlyar, Astrakhan (much later I got to know that the School of my brother had been evacuated there), and farther to Kustanay region. There I managed to finish 10 classes ahead of time

1943 was the year of my draft. Boys who finished 10 classes were directed to Tumen. In Tumen there was the Infantry School evacuated from Tallin. After 10 months of training in October 1943 we were moved to Tula, where the 5th tank corps was formed. I was sent to the 5th separate vehicular brigade.

I remember our commander addressing us ‘Soldiers who knows Degtyaryov's machine gun well, come forward!’ And I (proud young guy!) stepped forward together with some other guys. Each of us received a machine gun.

The next order ‘Disassemble and assemble!’ Having appreciated my skill, the commander came up to me. ‘Can you shoot straight?’ - ‘At School I was pointed at as an example.’ - ‘Well, start fighting!’ So I became a machine-gunner of the 5th separate vehicular brigade at the 5th tank corps. Our corps had to enter the breaks made by active forces, carrying forward the advance. Our corps maneuvered from front to front.

Our first experience under fire was unhappy: on our way to the front line we were bombed. My memory keeps feeling of shock and chaos. I remember Lera, my schoolmate dying on my hands. He used to be a cheerful and sociable guy. His last words were the following: will you remember me, will I remember you...

After that bombardment the corps was reinforced (our losses appeared to be not great) and moved towards Nevel through Gorodok. That offensive I remember in more detail.  It was in November, the first dirty sleet was everywhere. Motor-infantry of our corps was thrown into the break which was only 4-kilometer wide and was raked with fire. Our three-ton trucks stuck in the mud. Only we (infantrymen) mudded all over, were able to move and even pull, drag and push our automobiles. After all we managed to move forward and reach Gorodok. In order not to lose contact with our corps we dug in. I remember black-and-white naked trees under the grey sky and black houses on the white snow.

A comical episode which could have become tragic happened there. Our entrenchment was situated near the town outskirts and there was a privy right behind us. During a lull in the fighting I decided to make use of it. The privy door was broken and I could see the sky through it. Suddenly right in front of me I saw some sort of a black flower expanding extensively in all directions without any sound. Another one flower appeared a little bit lower. The fourth one brought awful sound of exploding mortar shell. I immediately realized that Germans noticed me and wanted to kill in the privy. The situation looked both ridiculous and awful. I jumped out falling down into our entrenchment.

Later in winter we took our stand in Belarus, near the Losvida Lake. The Lake was about 3 kilometers long and rather wide. At night we usually went to capture a prisoner for interrogation. In our group there was Yusupov, a soldier from Kazakhstan. He was a real Goliath. My task was to make noise, simulating activity in a certain place. And at that time in another place another group was creeping up to German entrenchments. Yusupov used to burst into it, seize several Germans, stun them, tie hand and foot by means of Kazakh hair lasso and easily drag them all to our position. He managed to bring in a lot of prisoners.

Much later he died ridiculously. Our plane stuck out of the ice on the Lake, its tail-end upward. Both Germans and our soldiers stamped a trail in the snow to the plane. You see, the point was that the pilot’s cabin had a special transparent cover, and the control board was set with colored semi-transparent handles made of beautiful plastic. Soldiers used them to make mouthpieces and handles for sheath-knives.

By the way, I still keep a knife made at that time. Both Germans and our soldiers crawled there to get that plastic handles. We had a secret understanding with Germans not to fire at soldiers crawling to that airplane. So Yusupov wanted to get that plastic, too. We tried to dissuade him from it, promised to bring him everything he wanted, but it did not help. He started, but Germans recognized him immediately and brought down fire on him. They remembered how he had troubled them. When we crawled there to take his body away, Germans did not shoot...

In the same place near the Losvida Lake I often waited in ambush together with my friend Genka Sidorov. Most probably we became friends because we both were from Leningrad. I was captivated by his intelligence, though sometimes he behaved like a yoot. He was tall, thin, cheerful, and fearless in fight. He was a true friend who kept vigilant watch on me and protected me (a red-haired Jew!) from bad encroachments of our associates. Waiting in ambush (digging ourselves in snow under a fur-tree), we whispered and bothered each other not to fall asleep (in fact Germans could capture us asleep). We used to spend there about 4 hours wearing short fur coats, valenki, caps with earlaps. [Valenki - winter boots made of milled wool.]

Later (in spring) field-kitchens were caught in the mud and our food supplies gave out. Genka suggested going to the neighboring village and earning some food drawing portraits of inhabitants. It was me who had to draw. At that time I always had clean sheets of paper (I did my best to find them everywhere I could) and a stub of a pencil with me. So Genka and I started towards the village during a lull in the fighting.

The village appeared to be not far from our position: about 1.5 kilometers. We found there a long earth-house and a bench in front of it. An old man was sitting on that bench. We greeted him and sat down beside him. I asked if it was permissible to draw his portrait. The old man examined us suspiciously ‘What for?’ I answered that I was an artist and wanted to draw during a lull in the fighting. ‘Well, do it, if you wish!’ I drew him quickly and the portrait was a good likeness. His wife appeared, sat down next to him, and looked at my drawing. ‘Look, it’s you! It looks like a photo!’ The old man agreed ‘You are quick and skillful!’ I handed the drawing over to him. He moved away mistrustfully ‘How much is it?’ - ‘It’s free. But if you give us something to eat, we would be grateful. You see, our field-kitchens lagged behind and we have nothing to eat.’ The old man took the portrait, looked at his wife and nodded his approval.

She jumped up and some minutes later called us to their earth-house. With great pleasure we ate shchi, potatoes and pickled cucumbers. After that I drew a portrait of the old woman. Their neighbors came; they wanted to have their portraits, too. I drew quickly. One hour of my work resulted in a small bag of potatoes, a piece of lard, some hard-boiled eggs and onions, a loaf of bread, some salt. My earned income appeared to be great! We became friends. Genka wanted to carry the bag: ‘You worked, and I only chattered!’ ‘No, you did good public relations for my work!’ Nevertheless he took the bag from me and carried it himself.

Our return was triumphal. We made a fire and reheated our meals. We also shared it with soldiers from other platoons... Here I told you about this sort of fighting episodes... Together with Genka we fought till July 1944 years. On July 17, 1944 I was wounded.

Our troops were ordered to advance in near the Baltic Sea. Our corps forced a crossing over the River Drissa. My vehicular brigade moved between tank brigades crawling over the bridge of boats. I was sitting in the bodywork of a high-powered truck. As I was sitting at the very backboard, I was the first to jump down and open protective fire while the others would get down from the truck. My soldier-assistant was sitting beside me holding reserve drum magazines. While approaching the river, I saw the narrow Drissa with the bridge of boats and tanks on it. I also saw explosions over the river: Germans tried to prevent our crossing.

The show was bewitching, like the stare of boa. It was terrible. I collected myself already after crossing, when our trucks caught up our tanks. Everything became absolutely quiet and we entered a small green cozy town Kraslava.

At that moment we were fired by Germans. We quickly jumped down and lay in hiding. I placed my machine gun on the left. Germans did not stop firing, trying to annihilate us. I rushed forward and saw a large residence with a balcony. I understood that it was the firing-point! I crossed the street and shot through the house wall until that German stopped firing.

Later during that very fight I was wounded. At first I understood nothing. I felt a stab in my back and legs. Feeling no pain, I rushed forward. But I managed to make only a few steps and fell down. I passed my hand over my trousers and saw that it was red. After that I lost consciousness.

I regained consciousness and realized that silence enveloped everything around me. I rolled over to the ditch, just in case. Suddenly I saw 2 tall Germans (their sleeves were rolled up) approaching me. My muscles toughened. But a minute later I distinguished our soldier holding a submachine gun. I guessed straight away that he was escorting 2 captives. It took a load off my mind. They came nearer and bubbled over with joy I recognized my friend Genka. I called him and he saw me. ‘Senya (they called me Senya for short), what happened?!’ - ‘I’ve caught a bullet…’ - ‘Halt! Diesen mensch nehmen!’ he ordered. ‘We’ll carry you to the medical and sanitary battalion.’

Till now I remember the round face of the red-haired tall German with a clotted wound on his cheek. He bent down to take me out of the ditch. At that moment I felt pain and a wave of nausea. I said to Genka ‘Don’t! Better send a field ambulance for me.’ Later I was picked up by an ambulance, my wound was dressed and I was put on the straw in a truck ready to start. There were several wounded soldiers in that truck. Genka came up and gave me a small notebook in red morocco cover, taken from that German. ‘It is for you, keep it as a remembrance. Live!’

I met Genka many years after the war was finished. He was a top-class long distance truck driver on routes of Scandinavia and Baltic countries. He was doing well. When I introduced Genka to somebody, I used to say ‘This is a person who saved my life: I was wounded and he carried me away from the battlefield.’ It was not a lie, though in fact the situation developed differently.

Some time after Genka’s leaving, a field ambulance appeared. Two nurses quickly cut my trousers using scissors. Before that they took off me 2 round bags with reserve drum magazines. The day before I sewed them myself, having recollected my father's profession. I made them with loving care (I attached buttons and small straps). And you see, when those nurses took those bags away from me, I burst into tears... I remember no more tears during the war.

Meanwhile the nurses quickly wrapped my legs in something white and carried me to the ambulance paying no attention to my cries. There were several wounded soldiers in the car. We bobbed up and down in it and groaned with pain. I remember that I had to ask a nurse about help. I had to hold her by her hands burning with shame and relieving myself.

So I found myself in the hospital of a small Latvian town Kretinga. The surgeon, who extracted several splinters from my body said ‘You are lucky, red, if these splinters hit you a little bit higher, you’d better be killed. And those very small pieces we left inside your body will not spoil your long life.’ (To tell you the truth, they did not!) Soon I managed to walk without crutches. I started drawing portraits of my ward neighbors. They sent my drawings home by mail. According to their requests, I often drew extra medals to them.

They never asked to draw extra orders (they thought it much), but medals were asked frequently. Time was getting on. Soon I was going to leave the hospital and it was necessary for me to get back to my corps. While I was in the hospital, our corps took the city of Dvinsk (Daugavpils) and received the name of Dvinsky. But everything changed when the wife of the commander’s assistant of the 4th army (their staff was stationed in Kretinga) noticed me drawing portraits.

She frequently came to the hospital and brought different tasty meals to the injured men. She wished to have her portrait. Soon I found myself among bodyguards of General Andrey Kalachev (her husband).

There my sense of direction appeared to be very useful: I was able to find the way without visible reference points (by intuition). The General always ordered me to sit beside his driver ‘Keep your eye on the road!’ And he was absolutely sure that we would not lose our way. The General often had to move along unknown front roads. Kalachev appreciated my ability. I liked to serve at him. At night I slept in a bed with real bed sheets (I had already forgotten such luxury!). I also realized that I had more chances to survive beside the General. We finished the war near Konigsberg. 

Here I’d like to tell you about another lucky hit: I got pennies from heaven shortly before my leaving from the hospital. One day I was appointed to accompany a local peasant mobilized to collect milk from neighboring farms for our hospital. At that time I was already recovering. I had to guard him and took my sub-machine gun with me. Not to frighten people, I hid my sub-machine gun in his telega under the hay and we started moving slowly and talking peacefully about everything. [Telega is a four-wheel carriage.]

He told me that he was a poor man, his farm was situated nearby. So we went from one farm to another. Sometimes people friendly rolled out big cans of milk and helped us to put them into the telega, the others obeyed gloomily. One peasant served us a hefty meal. By the evening we brought about 20 big cans of milk to the hospital. We became friends with that peasant. I was sleepy. I got into bed, but jumped up immediately! My sub-machine gun! That peasant had taken it away in his telega. I knew for sure that a soldier who lost his arms was worth death by shooting.

I decided to find that peasant. I had to go through the wood, and it was extremely dangerous, because the wood was full of wood brothers. [Wood brothers was a cumulative name of anti-soviet armed groups on the territory of Baltic Republics.]

I was sure that I would never get back alive. At last, after a long way I came to his farm more dead than alive. My driver came out of his house carrying my sub-machine gun. I seized it hastily and hung it on my shoulder. The peasant’s wife invited me to visit their house, gave me some bacon and apples. See what a prize I found!

  • After the war and recent years

I finished war on the Kursh spit near Konigsberg. Soon after the Victory our 4th army was moved to Kazakhstan (to Alma-Ata). General Kalachev was appointed the commander of the Kazakh military district. Many years later (when I was already a member of the USSR Union of Artists) I arrived to Crimea (to the Gurzuf recreation house for artists). During my first walk along the beach I met Andrey Kalachev and his wife Nina: they spent their vacation in the central sanatorium of the Ministry of Defense. We embraced. They invited me to their magnificent apartments in the sanatorium, and we spent the whole day together. Later we corresponded.

So, the war was finished. I (a front-line soldier with awards and 10 classes of school education) had to think about demobilization and further study. I returned to Leningrad. My Mom had returned from evacuation a little earlier and waited for me in our apartment. Father survived the war, but did not return home: he married another woman. Father died in Moscow in 1970s.

I have told you already that I was so much eager to study that submitted my documents to 3 higher educational institutions at the same time. I tried to understand myself. But by that time my teacher Konstantin Kardabovsky returned from evacuation and convinced me to enter the Academy of Arts. It seemed to me that I was able to better all entrants, but it appeared that people did not like arrogant men.

They flunked me in my entrance examinations. Then I entered the 3rd course of the high art school. I studied there during a year, and then entered the Academy of Arts (the department of painting) trouble-free. I studied in the workshop of Professor Oreshnikov (a remarkable teacher and a top-class professional artist). After graduation from the Academy, I started working at the USSR Union of Artists.  [The USSR Union of Artists was founded in 1957.] There every artist had got an agent (art critics), who used to find orders for the artists. We performed those orders and earned money for living. There was a lot of interesting work.

One of orders came from the state farm where I was in evacuation 12. There was a fur farm. I painted a picture for them and sent a letter describing my life there during evacuation. We painted different pictures. For example, one of them was devoted to a working day on a cattle-breeding farm. I remember that I had to go to Kirov to perform that order.

Another one was to paint a working day in the railway depot in Kotlas. I went to Kotlas, met with the local Communist Party committee secretary, and asked about the purpose of the future picture. He answered that it was meant for the House of Culture where workers usually spent their spare time. I asked the secretary whether it was reasonable to show workers their working day when they wanted to relax. He hesitated a minute, but said ‘Paint a working day: we would feel great security.’ You see, I had got a lot of orders. But usually I managed to find some time to paint for myself, so to say for my private satisfaction.

I lived with my Mom. She was often sick, worked in some workmen's cooperative association and earned just a dab of money. She died in 1956. Being a student of the last course, I met a girl among students at a party. I immediately decided to marry her. So I did it in 1953, a year after my graduation from the Academy. My wife’s name is Nina Pavlovna Iossilevich. She was born in Leningrad in 1924. She graduated from the College of Engineers of Railway Transport. All her life long Nina worked as a structural engineer.

In 1954 our son Alexey was born. We gave him his mother’s surname (Iossilevich), because his maternal grandfather was in anguish at the fact that his family would come to an end. 6 years later our daughter Nina was born. Our children were very good. They grew up and became remarkable persons. Alexey finished school specialized in mathematics. He used to win the first places in different contests in physics, therefore he had the right to enter any College he wanted without entrance examinations. Alexey decided to become a student of the University (physical faculty).

But unfortunately the same year a daughter of Victor Eskin (a known physics and my friend) was going to enter the same faculty. Two Jews at once were too much for the University; therefore Alexey was given a flunking grade. Then he entered the Polytechnical College. After graduation he started working at ELECTROSSILA plant (they produced electric motors). He worked there at the theoretical department.

During his work at ELECTROSSILA Alexey wrote a paper about a certain physical effect known earlier, but not explained from the theoretical point of view. Alexey managed to explain that effect. He gave a report about it at the scientific conference in Odessa. Academician Khalatnikov from the Moscow Institute of Theoretical Physics was present at that conference. He listened to Alexey’s report and invited him to work at his Institute. Three months later Alexey defended his dissertation. It happened that the procedure was fixed for the day when Brezhnev died.

So Alexey was standing in the lobby of the Institute and all Institute employees condoled with him, but not upon the loss of Brezhnev, but upon postponing of the procedure. Later he defended his dissertation brilliantly. Research workers spoke that Alexey’s work was the high-water mark of contemporary physics. Alexey was suggested to be given a doctor's degree, but he refused. He explained that he did not want to outstart his coevals (colleagues). My son defended his doctor's dissertation many years later. At present he often works abroad. He has got 2 sons of 20 and 13 years old.

My daughter graduated from the Academy of Arts, too. She is a graphic artist. Unfortunately she has difficulties with her work, because she is not able to scratch her way. She has got a son Eugeny (now Eugeny is 13 years old). They live in St. Petersburg.

When our children were born and rather long time after that we lived in a two-room apartment in Zhukovskogo Street. Both rooms were dim: the wall of the opposite building was 2 meters and 6 centimeters far from our windows. And according to sanitary norms it was necessary to have not more than 2 meters for improvement of living conditions. Members of the Union of Artists put their artists on their own waiting list. I visited the secretary of the regional Communist Party Committee and he helped me. I was suggested to occupy a workshop and an apartment of an artist who had left for Israel. Giving me the voucher, a local official told me with hatred, ‘Is this apartment a runway for flying away to Israel?’

While our children were little, we used to spend summer vacations out of the city. Sometimes we rented dacha, sometimes lived at our friends.

I came across anti-Semitism as a state policy, when I presented the rough draft of my degree work for approval. You see, I was in love with Rembrandt’s picture Syndics of the Drapers' Guild. [Rembrandt, Harmenz van Rijn (1606-1669) - the greatest artist.] I wanted to paint a group portrait of the members of the Soviet Committee in Defense of Peace.

I wanted to paint it similar to the Rembrandt’s picture, of course understanding the status of Rembrandt and my own. [The Soviet Committee in Defense of Peace was created in 1949 in Moscow.] I was going to draw Ilya Erenburg 13, the chairman of the Committee in the center.

Ilya Erenburg was a picturesque figure, an idol of many people, especially of the front-line soldiers. So, I submitted my sketch, and received a recommendation not to over-stress Erenburg. I was shocked. I spent a week thinking the situation over and decided to give up my idea of the group portrait. I suggested painting 3 portraits of cultural workers and got permission immediately. After graduation I became a member of the USSR Union of Artists. By the way, when a student, I received the Stalin’s increased stipend for excellent students, but in 1952 they stopped paying it without any reasons.

I was the best student and my degree work was the best, too. But our communist party functionaries could not permit a person by the name of Epstein to have everything too easy. A student from our course (a quite good capable guy, a son of some General) was presenting his degree work just before me. His painting was devoted to Mikula Selyaninovich in full-scale. [Mikula Selyaninovich is one of the heroes of Russian epic literature.]

The frame of his picture was covered with bast mats, bast shoes were fixed to the frame. [Bast shoes are Russian country wicker footwear made of bark of young deciduous trees]. In general he presented his work in old Russian style. They decided to make it the highlight of the program. During his presentation the hall was illuminated beautifully. But after that the light was almost switched off and I had to present my work in darkness. It was ridiculous!

In the time of Doctors’ Plot 14 it was terrible. We could not even imagine the inevitable consequences. When Stalin died, I was in confusion.

During the Hungarian 15 and the Prague 16 events I was ashamed for my country.I was pleased to hear about Gorbachev’s reforms [17, 18]. When people ask me about my attitude to Putin, I answer that for the first time in my life I am not ashamed for the leader of my country. At present I have no connection with the St. Petersburg Hesed Avraham Welfare Center 19. A long time ago I received food packages there.

  • Glossary:

1 Communal apartment

The Soviet power wanted to improve housing conditions by requisitioning ‘excess’ living space of wealthy families after the Revolution of 1917. Apartments were shared by several families with each family occupying one room and sharing the kitchen, toilet and bathroom with other tenants. Because of the chronic shortage of dwelling space in towns communal or shared apartments continued to exist for decades. Despite state programs for the construction of more houses and the liquidation of communal apartments, which began in the 1960s, shared apartments still exist today.

2 Road of Life

It was a passage across Lake Ladoga in winter during the Blockade of Leningrad. It was due to the Road of Life that Leningrad survived in the terrible winter of 1941-42.

3 Blockade of Leningrad

On September 8, 1941 the Germans fully encircled Leningrad and its siege began. It lasted until January 27, 1944. The blockade meant incredible hardships and privations for the population of the town. Hundreds of thousands died from hunger, cold and diseases during the almost 900 days of the blockade.

4 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

5 All-Union pioneer organization

a communist organization for teenagers between 10 and 15 years old (cf: boy-/ girlscouts in the US). The organization aimed at educating the young generation in accordance with the communist ideals, preparing pioneers to become members of the Komsomol and later the Communist Party. In the Soviet Union, all teenagers were pioneers.

6 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

7 Great Terror (1934-1938)

During the Great Terror, or Great Purges, which included the notorious show trials of Stalin's former Bolshevik opponents in 1936-1938 and reached its peak in 1937 and 1938, millions of innocent Soviet citizens were sent off to labor camps or killed in prison. The major targets of the Great Terror were communists. Over half of the people who were arrested were members of the party at the time of their arrest. The armed forces, the Communist Party, and the government in general were purged of all allegedly dissident persons; the victims were generally sentenced to death or to long terms of hard labor. Much of the purge was carried out in secret, and only a few cases were tried in public ‘show trials’. By the time the terror subsided in 1939, Stalin had managed to bring both the Party and the public to a state of complete submission to his rule. Soviet society was so atomized and the people so fearful of reprisals that mass arrests were no longer necessary. Stalin ruled as absolute dictator of the Soviet Union until his death in March 1953.

8 Kirov, Sergey (born Kostrikov) (1886-1934)

Soviet communist. He joined the Russian Social Democratic Party in 1904. During the Revolution of 1905 he was arrested; after his release he joined the Bolsheviks and was arrested several more times for revolutionary activity. He occupied high positions in the hierarchy of the Communist Party. He was a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, as well as of the Political Bureau of the Central Committee. He was a loyal supporter of Stalin. In 1934 Kirov's popularity had increased and Stalin showed signs of mistrust. In December of that year Kirov was assassinated by a younger party member. It is believed that Stalin ordered the murder, but it has never been proven.

9 GPU

State Political Department, the state security agency of the USSR, that is, its punitive body.

10 Stalingrad Battle

17th July 1942 – 2nd February 1943. The South-Western and Don Fronts stopped the advance of German armies in the vicinity of Stalingrad. On 19th and 20th November 1942 the Soviet troops undertook an offensive and encircled 22 German divisions (330,000 people) and eliminated them. On 31st January 1943 the remains of the 6th German army headed by General Field Marshal Paulus surrendered (91,000 people). The victory in the Stalingrad battle was of huge political, strategic and international significance.

11 Recreation Centers in the USSR

trade unions of many enterprises and public organizations in the USSR constructed recreation centers, rest homes, and children’s health improvement centers, where employees could take a vacation paying 10 percent of the actual total cost of such stays. In theory each employee could take one such vacation per year, but in reality there were no sufficient numbers of vouchers for such vacations, and they were mostly available only for the management.

12 Sovkhoz

state-run agricultural enterprise. The first sovkhoz yards were created in the USSR in 1918. According to the law the sovkhoz property was owned by the state, but it was assigned to the sovkhoz which handled it based on the right of business maintenance.

13 Erenburg, Ilya Grigorievich (1891-1967)

Famous Russian Jewish novelist, poet and journalist who spent his early years in France. His first important novel, The Extraordinary Adventures of Julio Jurento (1922) is a satire on modern European civilization. His other novels include The Thaw (1955), a forthright piece about Stalin’s régime which gave its name to the period of relaxation of censorship after Stalin’s death.

14 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

15 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

16 Prague Spring

The term Prague Spring designates the liberalization period in communist-ruled Czechoslovakia between 1967-1969. In 1967 Alexander Dubcek became the head of the Czech Communist Party and promoted ideas of ‘socialism with a human face’, i.e. with more personal freedom and freedom of the press, and the rehabilitation of victims of Stalinism. In August 1968 Soviet troops, along with contingents from Poland, East Germany, Hungary and Bulgaria, occupied Prague and put an end to the reforms.

17 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People’s Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party’s control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations

18 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.

19 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.

Iosif Gotlib

Iosif Gotlib

Date of interview: October 2003
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya

Iosif Gotlib lives in a three-bedroom apartment in a new district of Lvov. His wife Antonina, daughter Lilia and Lilia’s son Anton, their grandson, live with him. They have standard 1970s style furniture in their apartment. One can tell that they enjoy doing things with their own hands: they’ve taken a lot of effort to make their dwelling comfortable and cozy. They did repairs in their apartment and Iosif’s wife Antonina placed her embroidery patterns on the walls. Iosif made shelves and stands for pot plants. Their apartment is very clean and bright. There are many pot plants and there are photographs of Iosif and his wife, their children and grandchildren on the walls. Iosif is a man of average height, thin. He was ill and it affected his speech, but he willingly agreed to give this interview and said a lot about his life and family. Although he doesn’t go out, he takes a vivid interest in everything happening around him.  He reads a lot and likes to discuss what he has read.  

I didn’t know my father’s parents or any members of his family. Since my father’s patronymic was Mikhailovich [the customary polite address in Russian is by first and patronymic name, which consists of one’s father’s name and a suffix: –ovna for women and –ovich for men], I can guess that my paternal grandfather’s name was Moishe which is Mikhail in Russian [common name] 1. I don’t know anything about my grandmother. My father Abram Gotlib was born in the town of Sudhza [250 km from Moscow] Kursk province in Russia in 1888. All I know about my father’s childhood or youth is that he became an orphan young. Somehow he moved to St. Petersburg where he entered the medical Faculty of the university. I don’t know where my father studied before he entered the university.  Although my father was a Jew, and at that time there was a Jewish admission [five percent] quota 2 in Russian higher educational institutions, my father was admitted. My father was a very talented and educated man. He knew 5 European languages: English, French, German, Italian and Romanian; he could draw well and play the piano. After finishing his studies he was trained in a hospital for a year where he obtained qualifications as a surgeon. My father worked in this hospital until the beginning of World War I. When Russia entered the war my father was recruited to the tsarist army. He was a surgeon in a frontline hospital.

I know a little bit more about my mother’s family. My maternal grandfather David Levandovskiy and grandmother whose name I don’t know lived in Voyutichi village in 13 km from Sambor town of Lvov region [600 km from Kiev], in the Russian Empire. I don’t know their birth date or place. I remember a portrait of grandfather David that we had at home. My grandfather had a big gray beard and had a black suit and yarmulka on. I remember my grandmother a little. She was short, fat and very kind. She spoke drawlingly and always smiled and wore long dark clothing and a black kerchief. She has a silk shawl with fringes that she wore to the synagogue. The grandparents spoke Yiddish at home, but they all knew Polish and Russian.  My mother told me that her parents were religious. They always celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays at home. My grandfather went to the synagogue on Saturday and Jewish holidays and my grandmother only went there on Jewish holidays.

My grandfather was a cabinetmaker and my grandmother was a housewife, as was customary with patriarchal Jewish families. Their children were born in Voyutichi. Haim was an older son and then Shymon was born. I don’t know their dates of birth. My mother Dora was born in 1896, and her younger brother Leizer was born in 1898. My mother was still a child when the family moved to Lvov [510 km from Kiev]. It’s hard to say why they decided to move. My mother told me that there was no anti-Semitism at the time when she was young. It appeared after World War I when even Jewish pogroms in Russia 3 happened, but Lvov was a big town and there were no pogroms in it.  They happened in smaller towns where they were not afraid of facing any resistance. In Lvov there were no national conflicts. There were synagogues and Jewish schools. Jews also owned trade. There were Jewish teachers, doctors and lawyers, but of course, the majority of the Jewish population were poor craftsmen.

My maternal grandparents rented an apartment from a Jewish owner in Lvov. He owned a 4-storied house that he leased. He also owned a store on the first floor of this house. The owner and his family lived on the 2nd floor and had tenants in remaining apartments. There was a small hut in the yard of this house that my grandfather also rented from him and had his carpenter shop there. They manufactured furniture, doors and window frames in this shop. My grandfather had his shop closed on Saturday. His two older sons also worked with him. Leizer, the youngest son, died during flu epidemic in 1913. Grandfather David died in 1915. They were buried in the Jewish cemetery in Lvov. After grandfather died his sons inherited his shop.  

My mother’s brothers studied in a Polish school and cheder. My mother also finished 8 grades of a polish school. Girls didn’t go to cheder and my grandfather made arrangements with a melamed to give my mother classes at home. He came every other days and taught my mother to read and write in Yiddish and read in Hebrew and taught her prayers. My mother was very talented and wanted to continue her education, but there were very limited opportunities for women at that time. There was a choice of going to Froebel school 4 training governesses or becoming a medical nurse. After finishing school my mother went to study at 1-year school of medical nurses in Lvov. After finishing this school in 1915 she and other graduates were sent to a hospital at the front where my future parents met. They worked in the same hospital. They fell in love with each other and got married in 1917. They didn’t have a Jewish wedding, but registered their marriage. When in 1917 a revolution 5 took place in Russia and the Russian Empire fell apart, new borders were established. The Western Ukraine was annexed to Poland 6. There was famine and war in Russia. My mother’s family lived in Poland and my mother convinced him to move to her mother in Poland.

After they moved to Poland my father’s life was hard. Poland didn’t recognize his Russian doctor’s diploma. He had to take exams in polish, but he didn’t know it. He tried to work illegally in Lvov, but it was dangerous.  My parents moved to Biskovichi village Sambor district Lvov region [580 km from Kiev] also belonging to Poland. My mother’s family helped them with money, and they bought a house. My father worked as a veterinary. My mother didn’t work after getting married.  Their first baby David was born in 1917. He was named after my mother’s father. In 1919 my older sister Sima was born. After Sima Moishe, named after my father’s father, was born in 1921. I was born in November 1922 and named Iosif-Leizer. My sister Haya was born in 1925. Shmil was born in 1928, and in 1930 Eshiye, the youngest boy, was born.

Our house was rather big. It was built from thick beams faced with airbricks. It was divided into two parts. There was a fore room and there was a door to two small rooms serving as my father’s veterinary office. The living quarters were on the right. There were four rooms: my parents’ bedroom, boys’ room, girls’ room and a living room. There was a big kitchen where we had meals on weekdays. On Sabbath and Jewish holidays we had meals in the living room. There was a wood stoked stove in the kitchen. It heated the kitchen and my mother cooked on it. There were smaller heating stoves in the rooms. We had household chores to do. However small we were, we fetched water, sawed wood and the girls washed dishes and cleaned the house. There was a small orchard in the backyard, few trees, a woodshed, a toilet and a small well. My father worked from morning till night. Sometimes his customers brought their animals to him and sometimes he had to go examine them at their places. Villagers mostly paid him with food products. My mother often helped my father in his office.

My parents were religious. My mother and father observed Jewish traditions. We always celebrated Sabbath at home. My mother baked challahs on Friday morning and cooked food for two days. She put cholnt with meat, beans and potatoes and a big pot with two big chickens boiling in it into the stove. In the evening my mother lit candles and she prayed, then father blessed the meal and we sat down to dinner. My father didn’t work on Saturday. He read the Torah and told us, kids, stories about Jewish life and Jewish religion. We spoke Yiddish and Polish at home. There was no synagogue in Biskovichi. There were three other Jewish family in the village besides us. The rest of the population was Polish, Ukrainian and there were few Russians. Neighbors got along well and helped each other. On Saturday our polish neighbor came to stoke our stove, boil water for tea, heat food and light the lamps. My mother always gave her some money or some treatments. On Jewish holidays another neighbor rode my mother and father on his wagon to the synagogue in Sambor in 8 km from Biskovichi. Our neighbor took care of us, children.

I remember when my father had to do his job as a surgeon. There was no doctor or assistant doctor in Biskovichi. A midwife came to help with childbirth. She witnessed almost all children of Biskovichi born to this world. There was a wealthy Polish villager in Biskovichi, I don’t remember his name now. He had 250 cows, farm fields and a big forest area. His wife had problems at labor and the midwife couldn’t do anything to help her. The woman was dying and this farmer came to ask my father for help. My father refused at first saying that he had no right to operate on her, but the farmer begged him to rescue his wife and baby and my father agreed. My father warned him that if authorities heard about it he would have to pay a big fine and the villager promised that he would pay it if it came to it.  My father went to his home and then he sent for mother. They made Cesarean section and the woman and her baby survived.  They named this boy Kazimir and he became a close friend of my younger sister Haya and brother Shmil. His father was grateful to my father. Every winter he supported our family with vegetables, flour and meat. 

My mother’s distant relatives Shpringers lived in Sambor. They didn’t have children and convinced my parents to let them adopt their older son David. David moved in with them and they gave him the last name of Gotlib-Shpringer. My brother David lived with his adoptive parents and occasionally visited us. 

There was one 4-year Polish school in Biskovichi. My older sister Sima and brother Moishe went to study there. I also went to this school in 1929. I was doing well at school. I was the only Jew in my class, but I didn’t face any bad attitudes due to my nationality. I had few Jewish, Polish and Russian friends. We didn’t think about who was of what nationality. 

In 1930 there was a big fire in Biskovichi. Few houses in our street including our house burnt down.  Our neighbors offered us to live in their houses while my father was to build a house for us, but my father decided otherwise. My father received compensation from the municipality for his burnt house and managed to buy a house in Sambor for this money. Sambor was a small town, but it seemed huge to me compared to Biskovichi. The majority of population was Jewish, but there was also Polish, Russian and Ukrainian population. There were few synagogues, Jewish schools and even a Jewish grammar school. Jews mostly dealt in trade and craftsmanship in Sambor. They owned all stores and all shoemakers, fur dealers, tailors, joiners and barbers were also Jews. Jews mainly resided in the center of the town. Land was more expensive in the center and the houses stood very close to one another. My father bought a house in the central street. It was a brick house with 3 rooms and a kitchen. My parents lived in one room, sons in another and the third room was for the girls. There was a big kitchen with a storeroom and a spacious fore room. There was only space for a small wood shed in the yard. There were wood stoked stoves and a well in a nearby street. 

After we moved to Sambor it was difficult for my father to find a job. Veterinarians were not in such big demand in town as they were in a village and on the other hand, my father was not allowed to work as a doctor.  He was good at drawing and woodcarving and he chose to do this to earn his living. My father carved wood sculptures. He didn’t learn carving anywhere before, but he somehow happened to do it well. Wealthier people used to decorate their gardens with them. He also made stucco decorations on ceilings and building facades. All of a sudden his works happened to be in demand and my father began to earn a lot. My mother began to work as well. She was a very good cook and began to do this to earn her living. She cooked at weddings or other celebrations in wealthy families. Of course, it had to be kosher food and her clients wanted to be sure that their cook followed kashrut at home. My mother followed kashrut strictly. She did not only have special dishes for meat and milk products, but also, plates, spoons and even dish wash sponges for meat and dairy products. My mother soon became a very popular cook in Sambor and she even had to refuse from orders since she was busy in other houses on those days when they wanted her to cook in their houses. Cooking usually took a week before a party. Mother baked strudels, honey cookies and other pastries and one day before a party she cooked other dishes.  My mother had two Jewish assistant ladies preparing food products for cooking and washing utensils. My mother did the cooking herself, she didn’t let anyone else to do it. She had a notebook where she put her orders for months ahead.

At home my sisters were helping mother with cooking. My mother taught Sima and Haya everything she knew herself. She said the girls would always be able to earn their living if need be. Of course, we began to have a wealthier life. Shortly after she went to work, my mother bought a piano that she had long dreamed about. She had wonderful hearing. She didn’t know notes, but she played tunes by ear. I remember that we gathered in our parents’ room on Saturday and sang Jewish songs that we knew many and my mother accompanied for us and sang too. Later my parents bought my older brother Moishe an accordion and he often played with my mother. Later he began to teach me to play. Our family was very close and I often recall those happy hours.  

My father went to the synagogue in our street on Saturdays and Jewish holidays. It was a small synagogue and there was no room for women in it. The boys went to the synagogue with our father after they turned 7, it was a custom in Sambor that children started going to the synagogue at this age. My father didn’t have a beard or payes. He only had small moustache.  He wore a hat to go out and a yarmulka to the synagogue. He put it on inside the synagogue and they took it off to go home. We, boys, also took our yarmulka to the synagogue and didn’t have our head covered elsewhere. Of course, when it was cold we wore caps or hats. I remember that my older brother and I usually went to play football with other boys after the synagogue. My mother went to a bigger synagogue in the neighboring street also on Sabbath and holidays. My mother didn’t take her daughters with her. My mother didn’t wear a wig. She had a long plait. When my mother went out she clipped it on the back of her head. My mother only wore a kerchief to go to the synagogue and at home on Sabbath or holidays. 

We celebrated Sabbath and Jewish holidays at home. Before Pesach we cleaned the house. Everything was shining with cleanness. No breadcrumbs were to be found anywhere. After the cleaning all breadcrumbs or pieces of bread were taken to the yard to be burnt. We also took away our everyday kitchen utensils and took down a box with special Pesach dishes from the attic. There was crockery and kitchen utensils – casseroles and frying pans - stored in the box. My mother also kept her dishes for making matzah separately. She had a bowl for dough for matzah, a rolling pin and even a wheel to make holes on matzah.  My mother baked herself. Sometimes our neighbors joined her and they made matzah for together for their families. My mother always cooked a lot before holidays. She only baked her pastries from matzah flour. My older brother and I took turns to crash matzah in a copper mortar and then sieved it. My mother made strudels, honey cakes and Pesach cookies with raisins from sieved matzah. Mother always made chicken broth with dumplings from matzah flour, a chicken neck stuffed with fried flour and chicken liver and gefilte fish at Pesach. I’ve never tried such delicious forshmak as my mother made. There was a white tablecloth with embroidered lions and quotes from the Torah on it for seder at Pesach. In the evening the family got together for seder. My father sat at the head of the table. He recited a prayer and then broke a piece of matzah into three pieces and put away the middle part. It was called afikoman and we had it to finish the seder. One of the children had to find the afikoman and give it back to the father for a redemption. When I did it I asked my father sweets or toys in return. Then I asked him traditional four questions in Hebrew. My father answered me. The front door was open to let Prophet Elijah 7 in. There was a big wine glass with wine for him on the table. We bought wine for Pesach at the synagogue, red and very sweet. During seder each of us had to drink four glasses of wine. Children drank wine from small glasses. After answering questions my father recited a prayer and we sang Pesach songs. Nobody went to bed until seder was over. Younger children happened to fall asleep sitting at the table.  My mother or father didn’t work through 8 days of Pesach. We visited our parents’ acquaintances and they visited us.  

At Rosh Hashanah my parents went to the synagogue in the morning. In the morning my mother put a dish with apple pieces and a bowl of honey. When our parents came back from the synagogue we dipped apples in honey and ate them. There was Yom Kippur 10 days later. On this day children above 8 years of age had to fast from the morning till the lunch time. After bar mitzvah we fasted all day long. A day before my mother made a hearty dinner. We had to finish our meal before the first star when fasting began. Frankly, I never fasted.  Of course, my parents didn’t know about it since I didn’t eat at home. There was a Ukrainian family living nearby and the boys from this family were my friends.  During the fast I ran to their house and they gave me something to eat. My parents stayed at the synagogue a whole day on Yom Kippur.  They came back home in the evening and we sat down to a festive dinner.

On Sukkot my father made a sukkah in the backyard. There was a table inside and we prayed and had meals only in the sukkah. I also had two other favorite holidays: Chanukkah and Purim. On Chanukkah all our visitors gave children some money. My parents had many acquaintances and before evening I collected quite a sufficient sum. I spent this money buying sugar candy and ergots. There were dark brown hard and very sweet ergots sold in stores. We liked chewing them and my sisters made necklaces from their seeds. Purim was a merry holiday. There were performers in costumes coming to houses. My mother made lots of pastries at Purim.  There was a tradition to take pastries to relatives and neighbors and children were running around with trays of treatments and they brought us theirs.  In every house we went we got something sweets or some coins in return.

In Sambor we also went to a Polish school. My brother and I studied at school and cheder. There were religion classes at school for Catholic children. Their teacher was a Roman Catholic priest.  Children with different faith could go home. I had a good voice and ear and I sang in a school choir.  After finishing school Sima and Moishe went to a Jewish grammar school and so did I later. My parents had to pay for the grammar school, but they could afford such expenses at that time. We studied all general subjects in Yiddish. We had two religious classes twice a week. A rabbi came to conduct these classes. Some children skipped classes of religion. It was allowed and in their school records book they had a dash instead of a mark for this class.  It didn’t take me long to understand that it was more fun to play football than sit in class and I began to skip these classes along with other children. Of course, my parents didn’t know about it. I had all excellent marks in all other subjects. 

I turned 13 in 1935 and became of age. I had a bar mitzvah at the synagogue that my father attended. A melamed from the cheder prepared me for bar mitzvah. I don’t remember any details, but I remember that on Saturday after my birthday I went to the Torah stand at the synagogue and read a section from the Torah, there is a special section for a boy to read on his bar mitzvah. On this day I had a tallit on for the first time in my life. It was quite a ceremony and everybody greeted me. My father brought a bottle of vodka and lekakh to the synagogue and after bar mitzvah the attendants enjoyed the treatments. In the evening my mother arranged a special dinner for the occasion. My mother’s brothers came from Lvov. They visited us on almost all Jewish holidays. Haim was married and had two sons, a little older than me. He always came with his family. My cousins and I were friends. Shymon didn’t have a family.  

Sometimes we visited my mother’s relatives in Lvov. In 1936 my grandmother, my mother’s mother died. She was buried near my grandfather according to the Jewish tradition in the Jewish cemetery. I remember that on my grandmother’s funeral a woman approached my mother and me and tore up our clothes. I didn’t understand why she did this and my mother explained that it was a sign of the mourning. Haim, an older son, recited the Kaddish at the funeral. I don’t know whether any of my mother’s brothers recited Kaddish or sat shivah after grandmother, but we went home. My mother’s brother Haim perished tragically in an accident in 1940. He was buried near his parents. Shymon died of typhus in evacuation in the 1940s. After his death I lost contact with Shymon’s family.

In 1937 our quiet family life came to an end. My father was making stucco molding on the facade of a building and fell from scaffolds. He had a severe cranium injury. He was taken to hospital and after he recovered his doctors didn’t allow him to continue doing any physical works, particularly working on elevation. My father returned home, but he couldn’t work any more. He suffered from headaches and dizziness. My mother was the only breadwinner in the family. We were hard up and Moishe had to quit grammar school. Moishe became an apprentice in a railcar depot and I became an apprentice of a joiner. I studied 2 years and in 1939 I was to take my specialty exam and obtain a certificate of qualification, but this didn’t happen after the fascist Germany attacked Poland. In August 1939 German troops came to Poland and the Great Patriotic War 8 began. My older brother David Gotlib-Shpringer was mobilized to the army.  

Before German intervention there was no anti-Semitism in Poland. There were routinely incidents, but they were rare. We didn’t see Germans in Sambor. We read in newspapers and heard on the radio about intervention of Soviet troops. We had a radio at home. By the way, there were newspapers issued during the war. Of course, they were not delivered to people’s homes, but they were sold at post offices. We didn’t know anything about the Soviet Union before. When Soviet troops liberated Poland from fascists Sambor and Lvov districts were annexed to the USSR [annexation of Eastern Poland]. They became a part of the Ukrainian SSR. We were very happy about it. We thought that the USSR was a country of justice and equal possibilities for all nations and that it was a country where there was no anti-Semitism. There were many newcomers from the USSR. They were holding high official posts. The Russian language was introduced everywhere and it took me no time to pick it up. I liked Soviet girls very much. I remember once telling my mother that I would only marry a Russian girl and she jokingly threatened me with her rolling pin. Soviet authorities began their struggle against religion 9. They began to close temples of all religions and conduct anti-religious propaganda. Moishe and I became convinced atheists and my mother and father were distressed by it. They kept observing Jewish traditions and we were telling them that they were holding to vestige of the past.  

During the Soviet regime private shops became the property of the state. The owner of the joiner shop where I was an apprentice was also taken away from my master. I failed too obtain my certificate of qualification.  However, the railroad depot of Sambor employed me as a joiner. In the first months of my employment I joined Komsomol  10.  There was a Jewish chief of the training department of the depot. His surname was Shluze. He suggested that I attended training classes for locomotive operators after work in the evening. I studied there 6 months and I was a successful trainee. I had a medical examination and there were no restrictions. I passed all exams and obtained a certificate of qualification to work as assistant locomotive operator of freight and passenger trains. I took my first trip in June 1940. Since then I worked as assistant locomotive operator and I earned well. My older brother Moishe worked as track foreman in this same depot. The younger children went to school.  Since Moishe and I went to work the material situation in our family improved.  

I could play few musical instruments: piano, accordion, saxophone. I took part in an amateur club of the Sambor depot. There was a brass orchestra that often performed at concerts. I was a saxophone player, a dancer, master of ceremonies and a soloist singer. So I went on trips according to the schedule to be able to attend rehearsals. In January 1941 our orchestra went to a contest of amateur performers in Moscow. After a concert organizers of this contest approached me and offered to move to Moscow and join the Lazar Kaganovich  11 ensemble. They promised that I would be able to obtain a certificate of locomotive operator in Moscow. I said I had to think it over and talk about it at home. When I came to Sambor and told my mother about this offer she asked me to work in Sambor till my younger sister and brothers finished school. The family needed my earnings. I agreed with my mother and wrote to Moscow that I would join them a couple of years later. 

At 6 o’clock in the morning of 22 June 1941 I was to take a trip to Germany as an assistant locomotive operator. I came to the depot at 5 o’clock in the morning to obtain documents and do the final inspection of the locomotive before departure. I was surprised that there were no lights in the depot and there were many people in military uniforms  on the platform. The depot radio announced that all depot employees had to stay in the depot and if they left it they would be executed.  I didn’t understand what happened. At about 10 o’clock one of militaries announced that Germany attacked the Soviet Union without an announcement and that we were at war. I climbed my locomotive and saw another operator incinerating his documents: a Party membership card, certificate and something else. Then we were ordered to drive the locomotive to a train. When we drove there I saw that the train consisted of platforms for cattle transportation with hastily made plank sides and roofs. There were women and children crowding on the platform. It turned out that we were to evacuate families of the Harrison of Sambor. We headed Stryi and then Gusiatin. The train was bombed on the way, but it wasn’t damaged, fortunately. We stopped in Gusiatin for passengers to get water and food and members of the locomotive crew could rest. I fell asleep and when I woke up I saw that the locomotive operator was dead. He was killed with a shell splinter. There was no replacement operator available in the depot in Gusiatin. They provided an assistant and I had to drive the locomotive. We reached Kharkov [430 km from Kiev], our point of destination. Went to the depot office to get a job task. There was a military sitting there. He looked at my documents and gave me an application form to fill up. I wrote in this form that I studied German in a grammar school and when he saw it he told me to wait aside. There were few others in the group waiting. We boarded a truck and it left. We had no idea where we were going. We drove for few days. We were taken to a camp where they took us to take a bath and then we were given military uniforms. We didn’t know where the camp was located. Only later it turned out that it was in Moscow region. Few days we learned to shoot and crawl and studied service regulations. Then we were distributed to military units. I joined an intelligence unit as an interpreter, my major duty was to interpret interrogation of German captives. The regiment was deployed near Moscow. This was September 1941. There were no actions near Moscow and we moved to Byelorussia. I went scouting with the unit several times.

We lived in trenches for the most part. We excavated wider and deeper trenches and placed planks on top. We had branches of the ground floors and slept on our overcoats. Of course, these were unbearable conditions. Everything was difficult: washing and even combing. Combs and razors broke and there was nowhere to get new ones. We shaved with sharp blades or knives: whatever we had. For this reason many frontline men grew beards and moustache, though the service regulations didn’t allow it. In a short time we all got lice.  There were happy moments when we could stay in village  houses and got an opportunity to wash and put ourselves in order. There were no men, only elderly omen, in villages. All men of 18 through 50 years of age were at the front. Village women sympathized with us and gave us better food, though they didn’t have enough either. We could wash in a public bathroom when there was one in villages, but unfortunately, it didn’t happen often. 

There was a field kitchen moving with our regiment. Food product supplies were delivered from the rear. There were delays during combat action, but then we had dried bread and tinned meat.  It was hard for smokers. There were delays with tobacco delivery and then they smoked dry leaves and dried rind.  Tobacco served as currency: one could exchange anything for it. 

I didn’t stay long at the front. In January 1942 I was wounded in my arm and head. Our regiment medical unit provided first aid and then sent me to a rear hospital in Karaganda, Kazakhstan, in 2500 km from home, where I stayed for almost two months. When I was released from hospital I went to a military registry office to request them to send me back to my unit. The military commandant looked at my documents and said that there was a railroad crew formed in Karaganda and  that he was sending me there. There were 3 columns formed and I joined the 28th locomotive column. There were 10-15 crews in each column, 12 members in each: 2 locomotive operators, 2 assistants, 2 stokers, 2 chiefs, 2 escort men, 2 foremen: those were 2 crews.  We worked two shifts on trips: one crew taking a rest, another one working. There was a railcar carriage for crews to take a rest. There were plank beds and an iron stove where we could make something to eat. Chiefs and escort members were officers and the rest were privates. We hauled military force and military loads. We drove at night to avoid raids. When we transported weapons, especially rockets for ‘Katyusha’ units [Editor’s note: The Katyusha Rocket ‘Multiple Rocket Launcher’ BM-21], we attached those shipments in the middle of a train so that Germans couldn’t recognize their location. We hauled people, tanks and planes – anything. As a rule our destination points were near the frontline so that people or equipment could reach it promptly. There were frequent air raids. Almost in every trip there were losses of staff: crewmembers were wounded or killed. We looked death in the eyes every day. Of course, it was scaring, but not at work. During the shift I was calm and concentrated. 

Only during my short service in the intelligence unit I didn’t face any anti-Semitism. When I was in the column they often called me zhyd [Editor’s note: ‘Zhydy’ (kike) – abusive nickname of Jews in the Soviet Union] in my absence or even looking me in my eyes. At first it was a shock for me and I tried to hit the counterpart, but then I tried to explain that it wasn’t nationality that mattered I don’t know which of these worked, but I didn’t suffer abuse again. But who knows what they were saying when I wasn’t there… They also awarded Jews so reluctantly and only when they couldn’t help doing it.

In 1944 I submitted my application to the Communist Party. Two locomotive operators of our column gave me recommendations. There was one-year term of candidateship before they admitted to the Party. I believed that to be a Party member was an honorable and responsible thing and that a communist had to be an example for all. 

In March 1945 we already began to drive trains in the direction of Germany.  In late March 1945 our crew was awarded with orders. A locomotive operator of my crew was awarded an Order of the great Patriotic war of the 1st grade and I was awarded the same order of the 2nd grade.  I was also awarded medals ‘For Courage’ for fighting for various towns. [Editor’s note: There are orders and medals awarded to him for his combat deeds and labor achievements on his jacket, including the Order of Great Patriotic War, Order of Glory, medal for Defense of Stalingrad.]

In late April 1945 our train was running in the vicinity of Berlin, about 30 km.  We didn’t reach Berlin, though. I remember a funny incident  at a big station. A Soviet colonel came to the train and asked for a locomotive operator. I responded and he asked me to follow him. We came to the station and I saw a beautiful shining car there. This colonel said: ‘Start this car’ and I replied that I was a locomotive operator, not a car driver. He grew mad, called me stupid and told me to go away.  He thought that everything that could move operated in the same way.

I met my wife in this locomotive column. In late 1944 our column was stationed in Nida, a Byelorussian town. Many girls came to work in the depot at Komsomol assignment. They sent a young girl from Pskov to work as a stoker with me.  Antonina Fomina was born in Pskov in 1926. Her parents were farmers. Antonina had 3 brothers and 2 sisters. She was very industrious with her work. At first I didn’t take much notice of her. Later she told me that she noted my accuracy. Some operators had their cabin dirty or there was coal near the stove, but they didn’t care. I liked to keep my work place clean and orderly and then it felt better to work. I shaved every day and washed my uniform. She liked it and took a closer look at me. I was seeing Galina, a Jewish girl working in the depot. We went for walks and went dancing at he club. Once we went dancing and Galina refused to dance with me saying that she was tired, but almost right away she went for a dance with another guy. Of course, I felt hurt and told her that we would not be meeting any more. She jerked at me angrily: ‘Maybe you’ll marry your stoker girl?’ I replied: ‘That’s a good idea of yours!’ It was a joke then, but I took a closer look at Galina: she was a nice girl.  Hardworking and pretty and I could see that she liked me. I invited Antonina to dance and then we began to take walks in the town after work. Shortly afterward I asked Antonina to be my wife. Since we were both assigned as military we had to obtain permission of chief of headquarters Stepanov and  column commissar Natanin to get married. They signed our request and on 12 January 1945 we went to a registry office in Grodno, the nearest Byelorussian town where we got married. We had a wedding party at our work. There were tables set in the dining hall and chief of the column made us a wedding gift: few bottles of vodka. There was another gift: we were allowed 10 days of leave.

In the middle of 1944 I met with my family. I didn’t even know whether they were alive before. From Sambor they evacuated to the Ural and returned to our house after liberation of Sambor. My older brother David perished at the front in 1943 and the rest of my family survived. My parents couldn’t even imagine that I would marry a non-Jewish girl. Of course, I told my mother that I had my wife to meet her. My mother asked me to not tell my father that I got married. Even my sisters and brothers told me off for marrying a non-Jewish girl. I told them that I wouldn’t give up my wife for anybody. My future life showed me that I was right.  When they met Antonina they got to liking her, even my mother. My father never knew that Antonina was my wife, he thought that she was just my friend. We stayed few days with them and then left for our unit.

We were near Berlin on Victory Day 12. Everybody was happy that this terrible war was over. People greeted and hugged one another. There were fireworks in the evening and orchestras playing in squares and streets.  My wife and I were looking forward to demobilization, but we were told that our column was staying in Germany. We transported the military, military shipments and food.  Only in October 1945 our column returned to Nida in Byelorussia. Only 19 of 300 who were initially in our column survived. We were awarded Stalin’s award letters. In this letter they thanked us for outstanding labor during the war on Stalin’s behalf and wished us success in peaceful labor. 

I demobilized in early 1946. Railroad men from the Baltic Republics often came to Nida and they invited young locomotive operators to come to work there. They promised us lodging and good salaries, but I wanted to go back to Sambor where my family was. I didn’t know that my parents and siblings emigrated to Israel in late 1945. Only my older brother Moishe stayed in Sambor. But we didn’t meet with him: Moishe perished in early 1946. I didn’t know about it for a long time. They wrote me, but I didn’t receive their letter. My wife and I arrived at Sambor and went to my house: and there were strangers there.  They told me that my family moved out. I felt distressed and bitter about it. I didn’t know that I could claim my house to be returned to me and nobody told me there was this opportunity. My wife and I were accommodated in the hostel of the railroad depot. I went to work there as a locomotive operator.  In November 1946 our son Pyotr was born.

There were people who still remembered me in the railroad depot of Sambor. I submitted my application to the Party again and obtained recommendations. Chief of depot authorized me to organize an amateur club. I spent a lot of time organizing a choir and an orchestra.  We began to perform at parties and in contests. My wife didn’t like it that I spent there my time that I could spend with my family. Later she confessed that she was jealous. Whatever, but she posed an ultimatum: a family or an orchestra. I chose a family, of course, but I had to give up my orchestra.  When the Party bureau was reviewing my application, they blamed me that I didn’t accomplish my Party task: that I gave up this amateur activity. They didn’t admit me to the Party. I became a member of the party only in 1956. I was a convinced communist and a convinced atheist. Religion has been alien to me.

In 1950 I was sent to work in a depot of Lanovtsy station  [360 km from Kiev] where I became chief of the depot. My wife and son stayed in Sambor till I received a lodging.  In April 1951 our daughter Lilia was born in Sambor. In 1952 I received a dwelling in Lanovtsy and my family moved in with me.  Antonina didn’t go to work. She was to stay with our baby daughter till she turned one year of age. Then our son went to a kindergarten and our daughter was sent to a nursery school.  My wife went to work in the depot.

After the war anti-Semitism grew stronger. Cosmopolite processes 13 began. This period didn’t affect my family or our surrounding and I sincerely believed that the party was denouncing its enemies. Another round of anti-Semitism started after the Doctors’ Plot 14 in January 1953. And again I believed it was true that many Jews happened to be enemies and saboteurs of the soviet power. Of course, I didn’t tie Stalin’s name to the growth of anti-Semitism. When on 5 March 1953 Stalin died, it was a big blow and horror for me like for the majority of Soviet people.  I remember, the railroad issued an order for all locomotives to stop on all stations with their horns on at 13 hours on 5 March. My locomotive stopped at Drogobych station and the horn was on for 5 minutes. 

After Khrushchev’s 15 speech on the 20th Party Congress 16 my eyes opened. At first I believed him in disbelief. The thing is, we didn’t know what was happening in the USSR before 1939 when we lived in Poland. And later we didn’t have enough information. Gradually I began to think about it and compare things. I got to know that there were trains prepared to deport Jews to Birobijan 17, Siberia. From Khrushchev’s speech I understood that the ‘doctors’ plot’ and other ‘plots’ were organized specifically to strengthen anti-Semitism to justify deportation of Jews to Siberia. I understood that Stalin eliminated all Party officials and military leaders because they presented a threat to him, not because they were plotters and spies, as we were told. However, all Stalin’s followers were also destroying the country, each in his own way. But I understood this only later. 

Locomotives were gradually replaced with electric locomotives. I finished a locomotive school with honors and they sent me to a depot in Chanyzh station [460 km from Kiev]. My family moved to Chanyzh with me. Our children went to school and my wife and I went to work. I liked spending my weekends with the family. We went for walks, to the cinema and theater. We didn’t celebrate any Jewish or Russian religious holidays at home.  We celebrated birthdays and Soviet holidays. In the morning we went to a parade and then Antonina arranged a festive dinner at home.   We often invited friends and colleagues. We traveled on our summer vacations. I could have free railroad tickets for the family and we traveled a lot across the country.  We traveled to the south and north of the USSR and we liked tourist trips.  

In 1966 I was transferred to the depot in Uzhhorod [700 km from Kiev], in Subcarpathia. This was a bigger town compared to where we lived before. We received a small 2-bedroom apartment called ‘khruschovka’ 18 and said it was to be our temporary dwelling and that we would receive another apartment. We lived in this ‘temporary’ dwelling for 12 years and only recently we got a comfortable apartment. 

My wife decided to go to study. She finished a medical school and went to work as a lab assistant in a dermatovenerologic dispensary clinic where she worked until retirement.

My children studied well at school. They were ordinary Soviet children. They became pioneers and then Komsomol members. They didn’t face any anti-Semitism. They had my typical Jewish surname of Gotlib, but my wife and I decided to change their nationality to their mother's to avoid problems in the future, in the passport they are written down as Russian. My son liked my job very much. After school he often came to the depot where he helped me and asked questions. After finishing school he decided to enter the Locomotive faculty in a Railroad School in Lvov.  He passed his entrance exams successfully and was admitted. My son studied well and received wonderful recommendations after every training session. After finishing this school Pyotr received a mandatory job 19 to the locomotive depot of Lvov. He worked there 3 years. In 1967, when his 3-year job assignment was over, Pyotr got a transfer to Uzhhorod depot.  Back in Lvov he married Tatiana Yakovenko, a Ukrainian girl. My first grandson Pyotr was born in 1968, and my granddaughter Svetlana was born in 1976. Pyotr received a 2-bedroom apartment in Lvov. He worked at the depot until retirement. Locomotive operators retire at the age of 55. Pyotr has grandchildren. My grandson Pyotr’s daughter Kristina Gotlib was born in 1993, and Svetlana’s son Saveliy Andriyanov was born in 1992. Pyotr and Svetlana have non-Jewish spouses. This has never been a matter of importance in out family. What mattered was that they were nice people and loved our children.   

My daughter Lilia finished school with a silver medal. She entered the Faculty of Electronics of Uzhhorod University. Upon graduation Svetlana got a job assignment to work as an engineer at Uzhhorod instrument making plant. She lives with us. Her private life never worked out.  Her son Anton Gotlib was born in 1985. Now he is a 2nd-year student of Uzhhorod university. After perestroika the plant where Svetlana worked closed down.  She went to work as an accountant at the department of railway passenger and freight transportation. She works there now.

From 1946 I’ve tried to find my family. I sent requests to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and tried to search them through the Red Cross.  They replied that they had no information about them. Later I gave up those efforts: for a citizen of the USSR it was dangerous to have relatives abroad 20. Besides, I was a Party member. They found me after we moved to Uzhhorod in the late 1970s. I received a letter from my younger sister Haya. She wrote that she wanted to come to the USSR to see me, but they didn’t issue her an entry visa.  She went to Hungary. It was easier for residents of Subcarpathia to obtain a Hungarian visa compared to the rest of the USSR and I went to Budapest to meet with my sister. Of course, we were so happy to see each other. We didn’t even hope that we would meet again. My sister told me about my dear ones. After returning from the front my older brother Moishe worked in the depot of Sambor. He perished in 1946, he was smashed between two trains. He was married, but they didn’t have children. My father died in Israel at the age of 67 in 1955. After he died my mother lived with Sima and her family.  Sima married a Jewish man in Sambor before they moved to Israel. She didn’t work after getting married.  She has a son, but I don’t remember his name. Haya married a Jewish man from the USSR in Israel. Her family name is Strikovskaya. She finished an accounting school in Israel and worked as an accountant till she retired. Haya and her husband have two daughters: Tsviya and Esta. They are married to Jewish men and live in Haifa. I don’t remember their marital surnames. My younger brother Shmil finished a Construction College in Israel and worked as a construction superintendent. He is married and has a son and two grandsons. He named his son Abram after our father.  Shmil and his family have lived in New York, USA, for over 20 years. The youngest, Eshiye, finished a construction school and made stucco decorations. Eshiye got married in Israel. His wife’s name is Sarra. They have no children. In 1966 Eshiye moved to New York, USA. Eshiye and his wife loved each other, but unfortunately, they had no children. Eshiye was the best at music in our family. He could play any instrument and had wonderful voice. Regretfully, my brother died too early. He had throat cancer. He had few surgeries, but they didn’t help. Eshiye died in New York in 1972. I couldn’t go to his funeral due to strong iron curtain 21, separating the USSR from the rest of the world. We couldn’t even imagine traveling abroad on a visit. Later, in 1982 my sister could come to Uzhhorod and we met again.

When in the 1970s Jews began to move to Israel, I didn’t want to go. I love my wife so and I was afraid she would face this prejudiced attitude as Jews face here. Also, my children were not considered to be Jews according to Jewish laws because their mother wasn’t a Jew. According to the Jewish law, there are two ways someone can be a Jew. You can either be born a Jew, which means that your mother is Jewish, or you can convert. A convert is called a ger which literally means stranger. Being born a Jew means that if your mother is Jewish then so are you, if she isn’t then neither are you. It doesn’t matter whether your father is Jewish or not. Besides, I didn’t hope to find a job at my age and I didn’t want to be a dependent receiving welfare. However, I sympathized with those who decided to leave and wished them to be happy with their new life. 

I became a pensioner in 1977, but I continued to work in the depot.  Firstly, it was hard to live without working. It seemed to me I would die if I quit my job. Besides, it was hard to live on a pension. I had to support my daughter. I got a job of a track dispatcher. It was an interesting and responsible job and I liked it.  I worked in the depot until 1992. Only after I had my first stroke my family talked me out of going to work. 

When perestroika 22 became I thought that Gorbachev’s 23 promises were idle. Whatever hadn’t they promised on behalf of the Party… But then there were notable changes. The dead wall separating the USSR from the rest of the world, fell down. Soviet people got an opportunity to travel to other countries and invite their relatives and friends from abroad. In 1991 I visited my relatives in Israel. It happened a year before, in 1990, that my wonderful and beloved mother died. She lived 94 years and until her last days she was in sound mind and she remained kind.  I never saw her. I only managed to visit her grave in a Jewish cemetery in Rishon LeZiyyon. My mother and father were buried nearby and according to Jewish rules, of course. 2 months of my stay in Israel flew by like one day.  I met with my family and saw my friends who had moved there long before. Israel is a beautiful country and I am happy to have visited it at least at my old age. Of course, perestroika gave me this opportunity. However, I think perestroika took away from much more than it gave. During perestroika our society divided into the rich and the poor. I still think they shouldn’t have allowed this.  In the end perestroika ended in the breakup of the USSR  [editor’s note: Breakup of the USSR: Yeltsin in 1991 signed a deal with Russia's neighbours that formalized the break up of the Soviet Union. The USSR was replaced by the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS).]. Life became harder. I was an ace, the best locomotive operator, I have over 20 awards for my work, but now I am a beggar. 

After declaration of independence the rebirth of the Jewish life in Ukraine began. Before Hesed was established in Uzhhorod in 1999 the Jewish community began its activities in Uzhhorod. People began to go to the synagogue freely and stopped hiding their Jewish identity. I’ve never attended the synagogue.  I’ve been an atheist, though I believe in some superior force supervising us.  My wife Antonina began to attend a women’s club at the synagogue. We joke at home that Antonina is more Jewish than me. At least, it was her initiative to celebrate Jewish holidays at home. We do not celebrate Sabbath. On Jewish holidays Antonina cooks traditional Jewish food. We always have matzah at Pesach.  However, we also have bread at home at Pesach since my grandson doesn’t think it necessary to refuse from it. As for my wife and I, we do not eat bread at Pesach. My wife insists that I do not fast. She doesn’t think my health condition is fit for fasting. I’ve never strived to it, but I’ve got adjusted. Almost all of my wife’s friends are Jewish ladies.  They taught her to cook traditional Jewish food and my wife cooks for holidays. Only my mother could make as delicious gefilte fish as my wife. My wife and I read Jewish newspapers and magazines Vek (Century), and Yevreyskiye Vesti (Jewish news) that we receive in Hesed and then we discuss what we’ve read. Of course, Hesed helps us to survive. They used to bring us meals from Hesed, but my wife and I decided we would have them brings us food packages rather than cooked meals. Not because their meals were not good. It’s just that I, like any other man, think that my wife can cook better. Hesed provides medications and makes arrangements for a stay in hospital, if necessary. When my grandson Anton was at school he went to Jewish summer camps. He is much closer to Jewish life than me. Unfortunately, after my illness I cannot go to meeting or concerts in Hesed.  I hardly ever leave my home, but we constantly feel Hesed’s care. This is how it should be: if Jews hadn’t supported each other, they wouldn’t have survived and wouldn’t remain a nation through centuries.

Glossary:

1 Common name

Russified or Russian first names used by Jews in everyday life and adopted in official documents. The Russification of first names was one of the manifestations of the assimilation of Russian Jews at the turn of the 19th and 20th century. In some cases only the spelling and pronunciation of Jewish names was russified (e.g. Isaac instead of Yitskhak; Boris instead of Borukh), while in other cases traditional Jewish names were replaced by similarly sounding Russian names (e.g. Eugenia instead of Ghita; Yury instead of Yuda). When state anti-Semitism intensified in the USSR at the end of the 1940s, most Jewish parents stopped giving their children traditional Jewish names to avoid discrimination.

2 Five percent quota

In tsarist Russia the number of Jews in higher educational institutions could not exceed 5% of the total number of students.

3 Pogroms in Ukraine

In the 1920s there were many anti-Semitic gangs in Ukraine. They killed Jews and burnt their houses, they robbed their houses, raped women and killed children.

4 Froebel Institute

F. W. A. Froebel (1783-1852), German educational theorist, developed the idea of raising children in kindergartens. In Russia the Froebel training institutions functioned from 1872-1917 The three-year training was intended for tutors of children in families and kindergartens.

5 Russian Revolution of 1917

Revolution in which the tsarist regime was overthrown in the Russian Empire and, under Lenin, was replaced by the Bolshevik rule. The two phases of the Revolution were: February Revolution, which came about due to food and fuel shortages during WWI, and during which the tsar abdicated and a provisional government took over. The second phase took place in the form of a coup led by Lenin in October/November (October Revolution) and saw the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks.

6 Annexation of Eastern Poland

According to a secret clause in the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact defining Soviet and German territorial spheres of influence in Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union occupied Eastern Poland in September 1939. In early November the newly annexed lands were divided up between the Ukranian and the Belarusian Soviet Republics.

7 According to the Jewish legend the prophet Elijah visits every home on the first day of Pesach and drinks from the cup that has been poured for him

He is invisible but he can see everything in the house. The door is kept open for the prophet to come in and honor the holiday with his presence.

8 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

9 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

10 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

11 Kaganovich, Lazar (1893-1991)

Soviet Communist leader. A Jewish shoemaker and labor organizer, he joined the Communist Party in 1911. He rose quickly through the party ranks and by 1930 he had become Moscow party secretary-general and a member of the Politburo. He was an influential proponent of forced collectivization and played a role in the purges of 1936-38. He was known for his ruthless and merciless personality. He became commissar for transportation (1935) and after the purges was responsible for heavy industrial policy in the Soviet Union. In 1957, he joined in an unsuccessful attempt to oust Khrushchev and was stripped of all his posts.

12 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

National holiday to commemorate the defeat of Nazi Germany and the end of World War II and honor the Soviets who died in the war.

13 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

The campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’, i.e. Jews, was initiated in articles in the central organs of the Communist Party in 1949. The campaign was directed primarily at the Jewish intelligentsia and it was the first public attack on Soviet Jews as Jews. ‘Cosmopolitans’ writers were accused of hating the Russian people, of supporting Zionism, etc. Many Yiddish writers as well as the leaders of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee were arrested in November 1948 on charges that they maintained ties with Zionism and with American ‘imperialism’. They were executed secretly in 1952. The anti-Semitic Doctors’ Plot was launched in January 1953. A wave of anti-Semitism spread through the USSR. Jews were removed from their positions, and rumors of an imminent mass deportation of Jews to the eastern part of the USSR began to spread. Stalin’s death in March 1953 put an end to the campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’.

14 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

15 Khrushchev, Nikita (1894-1971)

Soviet communist leader. After Stalin’s death in 1953, he became first secretary of the Central Committee, in effect the head of the Communist Party of the USSR. In 1956, during the 20th Party Congress, Khrushchev took an unprecedented step and denounced Stalin and his methods. He was deposed as premier and party head in October 1964. In 1966 he was dropped from the Party's Central Committee.

16 At the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1956 Khrushchev publicly debunked the cult of Stalin and lifted the veil of secrecy from what had happened in the USSR during Stalin’s leadership

17 Birobidzhan

Formed in 1928 to give Soviet Jews a home territory and to increase settlement along the vulnerable borders of the Soviet Far East, the area was raised to the status of an autonomous region in 1934. Influenced by an effective propaganda campaign, and starvation in the east, 41,000 Soviet Jews relocated to the area between the late 1920s and early 1930s. But, by 1938 28,000 of them had fled the regions harsh conditions, There were Jewish schools and synagogues up until the 1940s, when there was a resurgence of religious repression after World War II. The Soviet government wanted the forced deportation of all Jews to Birobidzhan to be completed by the middle of the 1950s. But in 1953 Stalin died and the deportation was cancelled. Despite some remaining Yiddish influences - including a Yiddish newspaper - Jewish cultural activity in the region has declined enormously since Stalin's anti-cosmopolitanism campaigns and since the liberalization of Jewish emigration in the 1970s. Jews now make up less than 2% of the region's population.

18 Khrushchovka

Five-storied apartment buildings with small one, two or three-bedroom apartments, named after Nikita Khrushchev, head of the Communist Party and the Soviet Union after Stalin’s death. These apartment buildings were constructed in the framework of Khrushchev’s program of cheap dwelling in the new neighborhood of Kiev.

19 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory 2-year job assignment issued by the institution from which they graduated. After finishing this assignment young people were allowed to get employment at their discretion in any town or organization.

20 Keep in touch with relatives abroad

The authorities could arrest an individual corresponding with his/her relatives abroad and charge him/her with espionage, send them to concentration camp or even sentence them to death.

21 Iron Curtain

A term popularized by Sir Winston Churchill in a speech in 1946. He used it to designate the Soviet Union’s consolidation of its grip over Eastern Europe. The phrase denoted the separation of East and West during the Cold War, which placed the totalitarian states of the Soviet bloc behind an ‘Iron Curtain’. The fall of the Iron Curtain corresponds to the period of perestroika in the former Soviet Union, the reunification of Germany, and the democratization of Eastern Europe beginning in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

22 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.

23 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People’s Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party’s control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

Elena Glaz

St. Petersburg 
Russia 
Tamara Rozanzaft 
October 2001 

Elena Josefovna creates an impression of a self-confident person. Now she is alone, but has many friends.

At her home lives a dog, which alleviates her solitude. Elena Josefovna is occupied with housekeeping.

In the morning you can never catch her at home, as she is a very mobile person. 

Her flat is very clean.

She is vividly interested in the life of the Jewish community.

  • My family background

I, Elena Josefovna Glaz, was born in 1930 in Leningrad. I was the only child in the family. My paternal grandpa, Emmanuel Efimovich Glaz, was a winemaker. He produced wine, cognac, pure alcohol, and champagne. For his champagne he obtained a gold medal in Italy. He didn’t have an estate of his own, but worked as a hired winemaker for German colonists in the village of Dyusseldorf.

It was thirty kilometers away from Gyandzha town [till 1804 and in 1918-1935 it was named Gyandzha, in 1804-1918 – Elizavetpol (when the northern part of Azerbaijan became a part of Russia), from 1935 it was Kirovobad, now (after formation of the CIS) - Gyandzha]; in Azerbaijan. He got there from Odessa, where he also was a winemaker.

In Dyusseldorf his family was renting a big house; they had a leasehold vineyard, a large farm: hens, geese, lambs. Grandpa’s family was large. There were seven children in it: 3 boys and 4 girls. About 1931 my grandpa moved to his son - my father, - to Leningrad, and brought a lot of wine produced by him. The last bottle of his wine we had drunk in 1974, at my wedding.

Grandpa lived with us for two years, died at 62 and was buried in the Transfiguration cemetery (the Jewish one). I was 3 at that time. My daddy told me that grandpa loved me very much.

My paternal granny was a housewife. She was a semi-literate woman. It seems to me that her name was Elka. They said that after the revolution she and grandpa were going somewhere by train, on the way granny fell ill with typhus, at one station she was taken off the train and died there.

There were, as I was told, seven kids. The eldest daughter Eva was married to a man, who for some time was a captain on ocean-going ships and then became a winemaker. He was the chief winemaker in Kishinev after the war and used grandpa’s recipes, which had gotten into his hands in a way obscure for me.

The second daughter Ida lived her whole life in Gyandzha, worked in the post-office as a telegraphist. She had two sons. The name of the younger son was Rudolf, he was a trumpet player (I don’t know where he performed), and the elder was called Boris. I heard Boris was a ruffian. I don’t know whether Ida had a husband. Even Rudolf, when he visited me several times, never mentioned his father. Most likely, he deserted Ida and children.

The third daughter Adele got married being very young - at her 18 - and gave birth to a child and died in childbed. Her daughter, who was also named Adele in her honor, was given shelter by Roza, the younger daughter of granny and grandpa.

Roza had graduated from a high school and was a dentist in a governmental polyclinic in Tashkent. She died being over eighty years old. When she took this baby Adele, she was pregnant herself and soon gave birth to son Evgeny.

The eldest son Efim graduated with honours from the Polytechnical Institute in Rome. Then he lived in Baku and during his whole life worked as a mechanic in Baku oil fields. Efim fluently spoke, read and wrote in Georgian, Armenian and Azerbaijani.

The youngest son Alexander in young age was fond of going to mountains with friends and grilling shashliks [sort of kebab; pieces of beef grilled at a skewer]. His friends were mostly Azerbaijanians. In Dyusseldorf there were a few Jews, but many Azerbaijanians and Germans, because there were a lot of German settlements in the Caucasus.

Alexander was a very good administrator. Before the war, during the war (in 1941-1945), and after the war he worked in some company as a supplier. His wife was called Roza, she was Jewish. They had two sons: Ljonya and Edik. After the war Alexander with his family lived in the town of Chernovtsy.

My father Josef was born in 1892 in Dyusseldorf. He finished a secondary school (common, not Jewish) and, odd as it was, sang in a choir of some Orthodox church. In Russia it was hard for a Jew and, what was more, from the Caucasian region, to enter an institute.

So after finishing of a secondary school father went away to Berlin and entered the Medical Institute there in 1911. As grandpa had a big family, which he could hardly support, my father had to pay both for his living and study. He worked as a bartender; in other words, sold beer in a bar. Unfortunately, father didn’t succeed in completing his study in Germany.

In 1914, as everybody knows, World War I burst out and all Russian nationals were sent away from Germany. My father arrived in Kiev and entered the medical department of the Kiev State University. He graduated from it in 1917.
At that university he met my mum.

My maternal granny’s name was Sofia Samuelovna Landa (nee: Kalihman). She was an uneducated woman, worked as a seamstress in her early years. Granny had two sisters: Ekaterina and Rebecca. Granny was almost twenty years older than her sisters. Most likely, her father lacked money to pay for her education.

When her sisters grew up a little he was rich enough to send the two of them to study. Ithis is the reason why my granny, the only one of the three sisters, didn’t get a higher education. Unfortunately, I’m not aware of what Jewish traditions they followed and of things concerning their Jewish experiences. At the Soviet regime it wasn’t customary to talk about such things, and I wasn’t told a word about this.

Ekaterina was born in 1892. She had graduated from some institution of higher education [I don’t know exactly, which one and when], became a lawyer, went to work to Leningrad. In Leningrad she was a member of the Leningrad Bar of Lawyers and dealt with criminal cases. She was single. She had a lot of gold things and money. 

In November 1941, at the time of blockade, she was murdered by neighbours and they got hold of all her valuables. Rebecca was born in Odessa in 1893. She graduated from a medical institute, in youth worked in choleraic barracks. Then she became a specialist in virology and microbiology, and for many years was a senior scientist of the Institute of Vaccines and Serums in Moscow.

She invented a whole series of vaccines, that saved lives of a great number of people. Rebecca participated in creation of vaccines against spotted fever, typhoid; in the development of of gramizidine, by means of which they cure gas-gangrene.

My maternal grandpa’s name was Josef Landa. He was a steward in some landowner’s estate. He and my granny lived in a village in the territory of Bessarabia [a region, which occupies a part of Moldavia and the southern part of Odessa region] Now it is called Pridnestrovie. Somewhere after 1905, after bourgeois-democratic revolution, peasants rebelled. They scorched the estate, but the landowner accused my grandpa of that. Grandpa couldn’t stand all this disgrace and committed suicide.

He left a widow with four children, who didn’t have any speciality or skills at all. All kids were very small. I suppose, the eldest son was 14 and my mum - 12. However surprising it was, all four children including my mum managed to obtain a higher education. In her old age granny lived at her eldest son Henrik’s in Odessa. Granny died in the 1960s, at a very old age.

She was around 90 years old, but nobody knew her exact age as she kept it back. To what extent my grannies and grandpas were pious, what Jewish traditions they followed, I have no idea. Parents didn’t tell me anything about that.

The eldest son, Henrik Landa, doctor of medical sciences, venerologist-dermatologist, lived in Odessa. His younger daughter died at the age of about twelve because of some disease. His son Garik during the war had graduated from the Military-Medical Academy in Samarkand City, then went to the front and perished. He was buried in the territory of Belorussia in a communal grave.

The youngest son Boris had graduated from a Pharmaceutical Institute, was a pharmacist and worked as a head pharmacist of a large pharmacy in Zhitomir. His daughter Nyura now lives in NewYork. The youngest daughter Zinaida was a highly educated librarian and managed one of the largest libraries in Donetsk. Her daughter Ira has graduated here, in Leningrad, from the Financial-Economic Institute and at present lives in Israel.

At the war time all my aunts and uncles, who lived in Ukraine (particularly in Zhitomir, Odessa), were in Siberia (in Leninsk Kuznetsky) at evacuation and so they didn’t suffer from the Holocaust.

My mum was born in 1905 in a village in Bessarabia. She had finished a secondary school (common, not Jewish one) with honours and entered the medical department of the Kiev State University. As granny was left alone with four children, she was not able to help her daughter. Mum worked in a zemstvo [a local administration body in the 19th – beginning of the 20th centures], in what position - I don’t know.

Mum became a first year student at the time when my father was a third-year student - of the same department, - and in 1917 they got married. At the beginning of 1918 my parents left for the Red Army. The father was already a doctor, and the mother had time to complete only three years and became a military medical attendant. During the whole Civil War my parents fought on the South Front.

In the south they served until 1922. In 1922 my father was transferred to serve in Leningrad. At that time many people left Leningrad as there was not enough food, and there were a lot of empty flats. No one wanted to buy them, because no one wanted to live in a poorly supplied, non-heated city. So flats were easy to get, and my parents were able to get a large flat cheaply. It was more then 200 sq. m. flat on Ryleeva Street (at the corner with Mayakovskaya Street) on the second floor, not far from the caserns, in which my father was serving.

My mum began to work in some organization, I don’t know exactly where. At the same time she had finally completed the medical institute, obtained a doctor’s diploma. Then for 13 years mum worked for free (simultaneously with her regular job, for which she was paid) only in order to obtain good knowledge in biochemistry.

In 1935 mum defended her Ph.D. thesis in biochemistry and became a candidate of medical science. She was one of the first candidates of medical science in the Soviet Union.

My dad served nearly until 1933 or 1934. Then he was demobilized; for a year and a half or for two years he worked in the “Red Vyborzhets” factory [in Leningrad] at a medical and sanitary unit; there he completed courses and became a gynecologist. His further life was connected with the Snegirova maternity hospital. He worked there as a surgeon and before the war was a deputy head doctor.

Legends were narrated about my father. He was a wonderful surgeon: healed patients in absolutely hopeless cases. He performed so difficult operations, as, for example, in the cases of cancerous diseases, and after these operations patients lived for many years. He took them out from the other world. Many women owed him their lives.

Besides, he was a wonderful accoucheur. He was very tall, 185 cm; he had large wide hands and with these hands he took out babies and they survived, were normal. There were no complications, which we can often see now.

  • During the war

When the war burst out, the head doctor of the Snegirov maternity hospital left for evacuation in the very first days of the war, so father became the head doctor of this maternity hospital instead of her. Besides, he was mobilized to the Local Air-Raid Defence. There he served in a very high position: he was the chief of medsanservice [medical and sanitary service] of the Central city district. He was engaged in such a work, as, for example, rescueing the people who were stuck under the ruins of destroyed buildings after bombings.

Moreover, he himself took up the spade – he was an untiring person. When it was needed to take out corpses during starvation, he himself loaded them into a truck. When in spring it was needed to clear Leningrad of the mud, he took up crow-bar and worked on the street together with his colleagues, setting them an example; not being afraid to mar his hands (he was a surgeon, you know).

In Snegirov maternity hospital during the war he not only operated, not only cured patients, not only attended at the deliveries (and both women and babies survived, however odd it was, at that starvation period), but also repaired water-supply system and electric wiring. There were no men – they were at the front, and he took the place of all men, who previously maintained the maternity hospital. He worked as an electrician and as a metalworker as well, and as anyone who was needed.

All maternity hospital’s staff had survived in general. The father also organized production of a fir tincture in his hospital, which allowed to avoid scurvy; though he himself did not succeeded to keeping off of it – all his teeth had fully come out. They cooked some nutrient mixtures. This way people survived.

In this hospital there were 200 additional beds for wounded women or those women, who fell sick as a result of overcooling. Father served these 200 patients, treated them, and these people pulled through and recovered. Besides, in all hospitals [in Leningrad] father operated on all women with cavity wounds, in other words, wounds in the abdominal cavity. In 1943 my father defended the Ph.D. thesis, became the candidate of medical science.

My father was more than once recommended for high governmental awards, in particular, for the Order of Lenin. But he finally received only the Medal for the Defence of Leningrad, the one that a lot of people had, too. It was happened so because, first, he was a Jew, and secondly he had a very independent character. As soon as the war ended, the former head doctor of the Snegirov maternity hospital came back and my father was immediately discharged and transferred to the position of Head of department to the hospital named after Kujbishev.

  • After the war

After the war my father was very seriously ill. The exertion of blockade days, hard work and his former disease had adversely affected his health. After the war he had, most likely, up to dozen of microinfarcts, a serious insult, after which he, however odd it was, successfully operated for some time. But in 1953 he died. He was buried in the Transfiguration Cemetery, not far from the synagogue.

In 1935 mum defended her Ph.D. thesis and began to work in the Brain Institute (now it is the Physiology Institute) as a scientist. There they were engaged in biochemical investigations, carried out experiments on animals, mostly on rabbits, and thus they worked till the beginning of the war. By that time mother had completed her thesis for a Doctor's degree, but she didn’t have enough time not only to defend it, but even to submit it. The war burst out, and at the wartime all these documents disappeared.

Mum went with me to the evacuation. During the war we lived in Tashkent [capital of Uzbekistan]. There mum started working at a military hospital right away. She was the head of the clinical laboratory and ran the ward with those with cerebral wounds (probably because previously she worked in the Brain Institute).

In October 1943 father sent us an invitation and we started for Leningrad. Without an invitation they wouldn’t let you in Leningrad, especially because the blockade wasn’t called off at that time, it was October. The trip took us a very long time, because it was very difficult to obtain tickets. We arrived on January 30, 1944, in 3 days after breaking the blockade.

Mum got a job in a very high position of a senior scientist at the Medical Science Academy. They set great goals before her, but she worked there not for long – until 1949.

In 1949 they launched the so-called “Campaign against cosmopolitans”, in other words, a state anti-Semitism. Mum was discharged. She wasn’t hired for any job, though she was a prominent researcher. In these two years, when she didn’t work, mum wrote a large quantity of very interesting biochemical research works. Then she got a job of a laboratory technician in the First Medical Institute, in the department of biochemistry. Having been a laboratory technician and getting only 400 roubles, mum had trained several candidates of science.

In 1957 my mum fell ill. She had a very serious insult and after two years’ illness  she died. My mother was awarded with  a great many awards, very few people in the war were honoured in the same way. She had two medals: for the Victory over Germany and for the Valorous Work in the Great Patriotic War. Such a combination was very rare.

  • Growing up and recent years

Now I want speak about my childhood. From my 6 years old I had a governess. Her name was Elizaveta Nicolaevna, she was a noblewoman. She taught me to play the piano, to speak and read in French, taught geography and arithmetic, so I went directly to the second form at school. In addition to a governess we had a nurse.

Nurse’s name was Anastasia Alexandrovna Galaktionova, she was Russian, from a rural family. I called her granny, because parents were at work from morning till evening, and she was with me all the time. Parents were very busy with their work and lacked time for me.

We didn’t observe any Jewish holidays. It was very dangerous – for this they could exile a person to a prison camp or simply discharge from work. But we had a neighbor, who loved my mum. His name was Yury Mikhailovich Alshuler, he was a commercial manager in a secret munitions factory, though he was a Jew and not the party member. They didn’t discharge him as he was a very good administrator. He visited synagogue, knew Yiddish. He procured matzo from the synagogue and gave some to mum. At the time it was very difficult to get matzo, and if it was not for our neighbor we would not be able to taste it. I don’t know whether father was disappointed with Yury Mikhailovich paying addresses to her. But mum loved him (I mean Dad) very much, and he knew of it.

My nurse was an Orthodox believer, a very pious person, and she observed all the Orthodox holidays, so we observed them with her as well. Of all Jewish holidays we knew only about Pesach, because our neighbor used to bring matzo on Pesach, and we ate it with pleasure. My nurse knew how to cook gefilte fish, but at that time I was unaware that it was a Jewish dish. I learned about it much later, from some acquaintances, when I was already grown up. And daddy cooked stewed fish in oil with vegetables and called this dish «Jewish fish». Mum didn’t cook anything of Jewish cuisine, she liked to bake biscuits. But she told me about the Jewish dish cymes and explained, of what it could be made. Neither she nor anyone else in our family cooked cymes. Nurse died in 1970. She was 90.

At our home there was a cult of Stalin. Father smoked a similar curved pipe as Stalin did, wore the same army-type jacket, the same whiskers. My nurse didn’t like Stalin, but father liked him very much. We, certainly, knew of repressions, but all the same we trusted Stalin.

Before the Great Patriotic War I had completes 4 forms. At the outbreak of war I was evacuated with mum to Tashkent in 1941. There I entered a local school, and from March 1942 I began to work in a chemistry laboratory in parallel with studying at school. I worked as a junior laboratory technician. My work was to prepare excrement tests, urine tests, that is to say the most dirty work, and washing of the laboratory glassware. I was engaged in it for more than one and a half-year. Though I was a child, they made the same demands of me as of all the others. I had to maintain a severe discipline.

We spent a very hard time there. We lived in a hospital territory in a former room for school zoological circle. It was a 6-meter room, and 4 persons were living in it. There was a roof, but wasn’t any ceiling. Water dripped from the roof and there was neither heating, nor even light. We slept in clothes. To say the truth, we moved there to live in spring and lived there till summer, so we didn’t experience a bad cold. In a few months we were given a decent room, once more for several persons.

Mum for some time was a nutritionist and had to taste food before it was given to wounded men. So she had a right to get the complete dinner of a wounded person. That dinner was quite good: there was soup and small cutlets with macaroni and potatoes or porridge. The patients were given both butter and sugar. Of course, they were very small helpings, but they were given to people three times a day. However, mum couldn’t eat, because she knew I was hungry. It was impossible to carry out something from there. If someone was caught with a single potato or a small cutlet taken out, he would be either put to prison or shot. And according to ration cards we had only some bread – a kilogram of bread a day for two persons. Potatoes were already a delicacy for us. We boiled it and ate with unpeeled.

Later my mum was fired from the position of a nutritionist, because there was a boss who wanted to take her place. Mum was transferred to a hospital near Tashkent. There we remained from the middle of September till the end of October, i.e. about two months. The bread ration we had was, in my opinion, 700 or even 600 grams [per day]. We lived half-starving, though there was a large subsidiary farm and hospital officials were given a ration in water-melons, melons, tomatoes, but when you eat those without bread, you become even hungrier.

For some time I worked in a drugstore there – wrapped powders up, then I was fired out, - a boss saw me and said I was still a child, and children were not allowed to do such a work. The only place, where I was accepted, was that subsidiary farm. The work was to gather remainders of tomatoes. I gathered these tomatoes and for it I was given a big water-melon and some kinds of vegetables. I couldn’t go to school (I needed to go to the seventh form), because one had to go there far enough – well, may be, 5 or 7 kilometres along the irrigation ditch. The attitude there – not only towards Jews, but towards all the evacuees on the whole, - was not very good, so I didn’t go to school.

When we came back to Leningrad in winter of 1944, I went to school again. I was admitted at daddy’s request, he had a great authority in his district. I was admitted into the seventh form. I studied there for three years. It was a very good school, number 189 of Dzerginsky district. We had wonderful teachers, who had stayed there during the whole blockade. This school was operating during the whole blockade; and I was the only person in my 7th form who didn’t stay in Leningrad at the blockade.

While I studied in it I didn’t feel any bad attitude towards evacuees. There were both Russians and Jews. There were two girls – Raya Gulyak and Ahya Lis, who were pure-blooded Jewesses. They attended the school during the whole blockade. There, in school, pupils were fed up, they were given one plateful of soup. I don’t know how many people had died in that school during the blockade.

In 1947 I finished school with a gold medal. I had an opportunity to enter any VUZ [institution of higher education] of the city without any exams and interlocution. At that time it was very difficult to obtain a gold medal. Of our fifty persons [in the two parallel classes] there were one gold medal (mine) and two silver ones. Later that school was disbanded (it was long after; at that time I was already working), and now there is a physics and mathematics lyceum in this school, a very famous one. This school is a very old one, recently they celebrated its 250th anniversary.

I entered the Polytechnical Institute, electro-mechanics department, the speciality “automation and telemechanics”. After the first year I became a member of  a students’ construction brigade (the first in the Soviet Union), I joined it voluntarily, because I was a member of the Komsomol with firm ideological principles. The place we went to was called Alakusa, and now, I believe, it is called Gavrilovskoe [it’s in the Leningrad region]. Alakusa is a Finnish word. And there we built a local electric power station and pulled wires from that electric power station to villages, and also installed electrical equipment in the houses.

I was finishing institute in 1953. We had to defend our graduation theses in December. But they chose 6 persons of our group, one - the son of a person subjected to repressions, and five Jews, and said: “You will defend your theses in February”. The rest of our group had defended their theses and obtained diplomas, and we were put off to February.

Besides, at my pre-graduation practical work I was engaged in automation of one secret engineering procedure, which was called electrochemical treatment of metal. This procedure was a secret one, and I had to defend my thesis in the “closed” meeting [that is to say, that defence of the thesis had to take place under the secret conditions: only a limited number of experts were to attend]. But two weeks before the defence I was told that I would defend my thesis in the “public” meeting, and I promptly had to alter it and to throw away approximately one third of materials. It was done because it was not allowed to give a Jew an excellent mark, and they expressly invented me obstacles. But nevertheless, I defended my thesis with mark “five”.

Because I was Jewish, they deprived me of the opportunity to graduate with honours. My mates, who had the same marks but were not Jews, had obtained red diplomas, and I hadn’t. I had 85% of excellent marks in my diploma and three “satisfactories”: for drawing, sketching and resistance of materials. Though at that time there weren’t any marks for drawing and resistance of materials at all. There was simply the mark called “passed”. And it was an examination for sketching, indeed. But it was permitted to repeat the examination for those who had such good marks as I had.

They generally gave not a very difficult task and good marks for re-examination. But they gave me such a complicated task, that I was not able to fulfil it. As a result three satisfactory marks remained and I was given an ordinary diploma, without honours. Because Jews were not allowed to obtain red diplomas –with honours - and especially in such a specialization as “automation”.

When in the end of February we were given assignments [all high-school graduates were necessarily assigned to work at a certain enterprise], nearly all my institute fellow students got good appointments – in Leningrad, in Moscow region, at plants and institutes. And at the very end we six were called and informed: “And for you we haven’t got any job”. And we went away. I went to Moscow to strive for our assignment, and finally we got an appointment for all six of us. They separated us and sent to different locations. One - to Magnitogorsk, two – to Kansk, two – to Krasnoturinsk.

I went to Krasnoturinsk, it was a wholly industrial town. A large aluminium plant, and around it - a small town, where the managing staff of that plant lived. Convicts from the nearby prison camp and exiled Germans were mainly working at that plant. Germans lived in wooden houses, which one could hardly call houses – it was somewhat between a cattle-shed and a barn. There wasn’t any work at my speciality and I was sent to the Urals Aluminium Plant, to the town of Kamensk-Uralsk. It is 100 kilometres to the south of Sverdlovsk.

Having received the news about my father’s death in 1953, I obtained a transfer to the Leningrad Institute of Aliminium & Magnesium Industry. I began working at this institute. It was very good to work there, we were a wonderful collective. But safety measures were poorly observed there and several times I nearly poisoned myself with quicksilver and chlorine, and once I spilled a titanium solution over myself.

I worked in this Aliminium & Magnesium Institute for three years. It was the period of probation, for which a junior specialist had to work. So after three years I started trying to get a job in some other place. It was already the year of 1956, but all the same anywhere I addressed I was rejected. At first, while I was talking to them on the phone, they said: “Yes, yes, please come, we need such a specialist”. And I must mention that I have a typically Jewish appearance. So when I came, they would say: “Sorry, but we have just taken another person into this position”.

One my very distant relative had assisted me to acquire a job in the Research Institute of Telephone Communications, where I worked for almost 35 years. I started on the job in September 1957 and quit in 1995. I was engaged in electronic telephony and at the same time translated texts from English and French. I was considered a very good translator. My husband and me provided with translations practically the whole department of the scientific and technical information.
My husband worked at the same institute as a translator from German. We got married in 1974. My husband was Russian. He was born in 1940 in Belozersk town of Vologodskaya Region. His mother was an actress, father – a theater producer. His father had perished at the front in 1944 during the offensive at Berlin. My husband was born an invalid, he had a serious form of an infantine cerebral palsy.

After the war my husband studied at the Leningrad State University and lived in the house of invalids. He studied for 10 years, as he was an invalid and could take an academic leave as many times as he wanted. Once he took an academic leave for 3 years and completed the three-year courses of German in the House of Culture named after Dzerzhinsky.

He was very gifted in foreign languages. Though he was an invalid, he didn’t become exasperated and had a very nice character. He was a very kind person.

My husband died in 1991 and was buried in the Transfiguration Cemetery near my parents. We had no children.

My parents and I were very assimilated and my Jewish origin meant very little to me. I was never interested in anything concerning Jewish life. About the end of the 1980s – beginning of the 1990s I was told by some of my acquaintances that they distributed provisions in the Jewish charitable organization on Ryleeva Street. As at that time my financial position wasn’t very good I went to this organization. Soon I got to know of Hesed. For the first time I went there for provisions as well. Now I seldom visit Hesed, mainly for holiday presents or medicines. But in Hesed I learned much about Jewish holidays and traditions and now I don’t feel myself estranged from Jewish life.   

Yelizaveta Dubinskaya

Elizaveta Dubinskya
Interviewer: Zhanna Litinskya
Date of interview: November 2001

Yelizaveta Dubinskaya is a very ill woman. When we came over, she met us sitting against the pillows. She lives in a very small two-room flat with her daughter. Both of them are on pension and receive aid from the Jewish community and “Khesed”. During the interview she had to lie down and rest quite often. Despite all of this, she is very kind and sometimes witty.

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

My family backgrownd

My name is Yelizaveta Dubinskaya. I was born with this last name; this is my father’s last name.
I was born in Kiev, or to be more precise, Kiev’s suburb, Slobodka, on the Pushkinskaya Street. I was born on May 12, 1922.
I knew none of my grandparents: they died before I was born.
The name of my grandfather – my father’s father – was Yankel Dubinsky; my grandmother’s name was Leah. I don’t remember her maiden name. I don’t remember when they were born. Grandmother Leah was born in Boguslav, but I don’t know where my grandfather was born. My grandfather was some kind of a craftsman, and grandmother Leah worked around the house. My grandfather left for America (prior to the Revolution), but failed to get rich and died there. So, my grandmother remained a widow. She earned her living by cooking for people. People would come and eat at her place, and they paid a little for that. She was a very good cook, my father always praised her roast meat; my mother could never please him with her own cooking, she could never cook quite as tasty as his mother.
The names of my mother’s parents were: father – Yosef Reznik, mother – Yenta. I don’t know her maiden name. My grandfather was born in the town of Shenderovka, Kiev province. He went to kheder and received craftsman education. My grandmother worked around the house, while my grandfather was a tailor. They were religious, prayed to God and attended the synagogue. But I did not know them, I know all of this only from my mother’s stories.
But my grandfather knew people well. My mother said that before I was born, a gang attacked their town during the Civil War, and my grandfather gathered a lot of Jews in one house, then went out to welcome the gang and told them that there were no “kikes” in the area. He treated them with vodka and other alcohol, and they believed him, did not touch anyone, did not kill anyone. He looked very Ukrainian.
My father was Yudko Yakovlevich Dubinsky. He was born in 1887 in Boguslav. He left to live in Kiev very early. He left for Kiev because life in his native village was very hard. He was a hatter, he sewed hats and then he had to sell them, but the financial inspector demanded money from him, tried to find faults with him, and so he decided to leave.
My mother’s name was Eidlya, her maiden name was Reznik. She was born in Shenderovka, Kiev province.
My mother worked around the house. I don’t remember whether she had any brothers or sisters, while my father had a sister. Her name was Menya, she was born in 1880. He might have had more brothers and sisters, but I know nothing of them.

I was the fifth and the youngest child in our family. My eldest brother was Yakov, he was born in 1911; then brother Leonid was born in 1914, then sisters: elder – Rozalia, born in 1908, and Maria, born in 1919. Elder sister Rozalia went to a Jewish school, while Maria went to a Ukrainian school (she started in the Jewish school, and after two or three years there our parents decided that she should better study in a Ukrainian school; many did so back then.)
Our brothers were much older than me, so in my childhood I played and made friends mostly with Maria because we were the closest in age.
Sister Rozalia married in 1929. Her husband, Jonah Saltsov, worked at a sewing factory. He adjusted big industrial sewing machines. Before the war they had two little children: Zhenya and Dima. That is why sister Rozalia did not work, but stayed home and took care of her children. They lived in the village of Rakitnoye, Korsun-Shevchenkovsky district.
During the war Jonah Saltsov and Rozalia with children were evacuated somewhere in the Middle Asia, but I’m not sure where. I only know that Johan was very sick: I believe he had double stomach. He did not live long after the war and died in around 1958. Rozalia’s children Zhenya and Dima went to Israel, and Rozalia certainly left with them. She is no longer alive. She died in the beginning of the 80-s.
Sister Maria got married just prior to the war. She married Yakov Sokolovsky. They got married in May 1941. Yakov had some education, he worked as an engineer at the cable plant. Yakov was called up to the army, and Maria (who was pregnant) went to evacuation, first to Kuibyshev, and then to Middle Asia, to our parents.
Yakov was wounded during the war and was demobilized before its end. He and Maria returned to Kiev after us, in 1945. They had a daughter, who, I believe, was named Sonya. Yakov worked at the cable plant, and when emigration began they too left for Israel. I know that they have already died, but I don’t know about their daughter, we have no communication with her.
My brothers Leonid and Yakov worked and studied at the night school. Yakov became a driver, while Leonid entered the tank college and became a tankman. He was called up during the Finnish war, and then both of them fought against the fascists. Yakov was killed, I believe, outside Uman in 1941. Leonid was wounded, but returned home. Then he lived in Chernovtsy, but I did not have any relations with him. He did not like the fact that my father was helping me more than any other of his children, and we never were friends with him. I don’t think he is still alive.
I don’t remember our house very well. It was a flat bought by my grandfather. We had three rooms.
We had an average income. We never starved, but neither were we very full. I remember when I had to buy new shoes or clothes, my mother would always tell me, “We have temporary difficulties, so please wait, daughter. Your elder sister will sew something of scraps, and then we will get rich, God’s willing”.
My parents were strong believers. They went to the synagogue and prayed; we always celebrated every holiday. We had new things for every Passover: new clothes, new shoes and everything else. Old crockery was taken to the attic, and new Passover crockery was taken our of the attic.
I remember Passover Seders. Our father would ask his sons everything he should ask. He would ask questions and children would answer; we had matzo; the cloth table was white. And mother was very pleased to have a holiday, even though she was very tired because the family was large and she had to cook for everyone. But nevertheless she was happy to have a holiday and have everyone around one table.
My father had Russian, Jewish, Polish friends. He was an internationalist [laughing]. And my mother never quarreled with anyone else, never had a grudge against anybody. She always said, “God will forgive them; God is their judge”. If something happened with the neighbors, if their child would do something wrong, she never accused anyone, but said that nobody should be judged and more attention should be given to people. My father served in the Tsarist army. During World War I he was captured and was kept in Austria. My mother was very religious; she kept kashrut all her life.
When I turned eight, I went to school. I went to a Ukrainian school because there were no Jewish schools in our area.
There were Jewish schools and kindergartens in our town. My eldest sister went there, and learned such songs as, “Hey, play and dance, sing, mede loch mach a zoy, mede fis lach mach a zoy” [sings]. My sister who was born in 1919 also studied at a Jewish school for two or three years, and then she was transferred to a Ukrainian school.
Other children at school (Russians, Ukrainians) called me a kike; they said I had a tail. I showed them that I had no tail to prove that I was not a demon, but human, just like them.
Teachers treated us normally. They called us good names, and when they saw that it was hard for me to speak Russian, they would say, “Don’t hurry, just think and you will remember”. They never gave lower marks to the Jewish children.

Growing up

I was a “young October League member” and a young pioneer. I was very active; I sang in choir and danced. My parents, even though they were religious, liked it very much. They were interested in my life. My father would always ask me what new songs I’ve learned, what instructions I got.
After school I went to the Kiev Medical Accoucheur School, which later turned into the Medical Technical School. I was a good student.
People thought I was a Russian or a Ukrainian. They would invite me to their Easter parties and treat me well. We played together, walked together, did our homework together and everyone was fine. We went together to the beach and to the “Communard” cinema in Podol.
After the technical school I was sent to the village of Dubechnya, but the situation there was very bad. I stayed at one peasant’s house. Everybody there talked about Jews being the cause for such poor life, saying that the whole government and Kaganovich were Jews and that the Jews “would never let us have a good life”. “Until we deal with those Jews we will not have a good life”, that’s what people said in the village, where I had to work, and at the house of that peasant, and in the hospital.
So, I fled to Kiev. When I returned to Kiev, my mother did not let me work anywhere else.

During the war

Some people already got arrested then, but I don’t remember who it was exactly. My parents knew the people who were arrested. No one of my friends got arrested.
At that time we knew about Hitler, read newspapers, knew what he did in Germany. But we certainly did not want to believe that he would be such a beast  and kill so many Jews. How many thousand people died only for being Jewish! But… who remembers them? On June 22, at four o’clock, Kiev was bombed, and it was announced that the war began.
I volunteered to go to the front. My parents were against it, but I went as a volunteer on June 25. All the time I was on the front lines. I was the commander of a medical unit.
I carried the wounded out of the fire on my own shoulders, thus ruining my own health. I don’t remember seeing other Jews in the army. People treated me well because nobody thought I was Jewish.
Women in general were also treated well. Those who wanted to behave decently, managed to behave so; there was no violence.
My sister with her husband and children was evacuated to the Middle Asia. My mother and father were also evacuated. Stalin should be given credit for good organization of evacuation of the Jews from Kiev. He evacuated everyone who wanted to leave the city*.
In the army I received letters from my relatives. I could even see my sister Manya when she was in evacuation in Kuibyshev, when our unit was stationed not far from Kuibyshev.
I helped my parents from the army. I sent them my army salary, because I had nothing to buy in the army. And my parents shared this money with my sister.
At the front I met Yegor Filko. He was a paramedic. He was born in Belarus, but he was a Ukrainian. He was a very good guy; he treated me well, he loved me. He said he loved the Jews as his own family.
I married him. Then I got pregnant and was demobilized. In 1943 I moved to live with my parents in the Middle Asia: I came there for the birth of my baby. We moved to Kiev in 1944, together with my parents.
I gave birth to a daughter in evacuation. I named her Inna.
It was very hard for us to live financially. I don’t remember how we reached Kiev.
I only remember that Kiev was absolutely ruined.
Just when we returned the bodies of the hung Germans were being put away. One day before our return, the German prisoners of war were hung on the central square of Kiev. Many people came to watch this procedure; the whole city of Kiev came to see that.
I personally did not see them being hung, but I saw their dead bodies the next day.
In Kiev we learned about Babiy Yar**, about thousands of the shot Jews. I never heard about it in the army or in the evacuation.
My aunt, father’s sister, her name was Menya, was shot in Babiy Yar, as well as her children. They did not understand that they had to evacuate. Their son Noika told them to take their underwear and run while it was still possible, but she did not believe him. He left and lived, while she went to Babiy Yar.
When we returned to Kiev our flat was ruined. So my father bought a wet basement from a landlady in Podol (a district of Kiev).
Only later, a few years later, I was given a flat. I fought a lot for it, even though I was entitled to one as a participant in combat actions. But they did not want to give it to me first. Flats then were sold for money. Not officially, of course. People had to give bribes to officials. For Jews it was particularly hard to get a flat. Everyone expected them to pay. People believed that Jews did not fight during the war, but spent their time in evacuation and got very rich there.  But my both brothers fought at the front: one was killed, another one was wounded. I personally fought, and every Jewish family had a soldier as well.
But life was very hard materially. I began to work as an emergency nurse. I worked for two salaries, in two shifts, because a nurse’s salary was very small, and I had to bring up a child.
I was left alone, without a husband. The reason for our divorce was not in his attitude to the Jews. He simply lied to me. As it turned out, he had a wife and two sons. When I learned about it, I left him immediately, without asking for divorce. He later begged me to forgive him and stay with him, because he loved me very much, but I could not.
It was very hard. Food tickets were not issued at once. Food was very expensive. A loaf of bread cost 100 rubles, while my salary was 450 rubles.
My father certainly helped me. He began to work at a department store as a hatter. He was a good specialist, highly valued, and he helped me.
My mother did not work.

After the war

I already said that it was a rise of great anti-Semitism. Jews were called kikes everywhere: in the street, in stores.It was impossible for Jews to find work. Sometimes they were given special jobs to be accountable for money, and then some machinations were done – and responsibility fell on the Jews. Jews were held to be accountable for everything. There were certainly different Russians and Ukrainians. Some of them even saved Jews from Babiy Yar. But after the war – in the 40-s – beginning of the 50-s – anti-Semitism was overwhelming.
It did not affect me at work though, because nobody knew that I was Jewish. They did not call me “Yudkovna”, but rather Yelizaveta Yuryevna. There was one doctor, Mikheyev, who told me, “Liza, don’t you see this anti-Semitism? Why do you need to be “Yudkovna”? You are “Yuryevna” in the passport, so remain one to the end”. And so all the doctors called me Yelizaveta Yuryevna. And all the patients did so as well. Sometimes our patients would say (we had one woman by the name of Fanechka working there), “We will not go to that kike (Fanechka) for our shots, we will rather go to Yelizaveta Yuryevna, she is ours, Ukrainian”. Well, I did not dare open their eyes to the truth.
When the “Doctors’ Case”  began in Kiev, the atmosphere became very uneasy in our policlinic. I remember one doctor, whose name I don’t remember, he was a wonderful surgeon, who helped people a lot. He got arrested, and I don’t know what became of him.
In March 1953, Stalin died. I remember everyone crying, and I cried, and my father said, “Why are you crying, silly girl, he had to be shot in the very beginning. It is his luck that he died his own death”. My father understood people well.
Father lived until 1959, while my mother lived with me for a long time, until 1976. They were both religious, kept holidays even in the most difficult years. Nobody bothered him. The synagogue in Podol was functioning, they baked matzo there, and my parents celebrated Passover and other holidays. It was never noisy, but nobody hindered them.
We, children, were not religious. We kept some traditions, but only for our parents’ sake. My mother always lived with me, so I would buy a chicken for Passover, go to a shoikhet to kill it, and if I could not go to the shoikhet, my friend Raya would kill the chicken, and I would say that it was the shoikhet. I did my best to keep my mother happy. I was certainly sinful before my mother. For many years she was paralyzed. Sometimes she would shout to me from her room: “What knife are you using: kosher or not?” And I would lie to her, in order to keep her happy.
My daughter, Inna Yegorovna Filko, was considered Ukrainian (by her father). At school she was told, “Though your mother is a kike, it’s ok, you are ours”. My daughter graduated from the Polytechnic Institute and worked at the cable plant until her retirement on pension. Director of the plant, Grabin, was Jewish, so he treated Jews nicely. The whole city knew him. When he died, the plant erected a monument for him at the Jewish cemetery.
My life was always hard. I always worked at two jobs. In 45 years of my work I never had a vacation.
When Israel was formed I was very happy. I always supported it. They are great, they are fighting for their existence.
Life is hard lately because our pensions are so low.
But praise God there is a Jewish community and the organization “Khesed”. They help us a lot. They give us food parcels, good meals, medicines, rolls, doughnuts, and even juice.
I certainly do not leave the house, but my daughter goes to the Jewish Culture Society, to “Khesed”. She takes part in the Jewish life, receives newspapers. So, thank you very much for all of this.

Samuel Eirus

Samuel Eirus
St. Petersburg
Russia
Interviewer: Anna Shubaeva
Date of interview: April 2005

At first glance Samuel Maxovich Eirus looks much younger than he is. And he is already about eighty.

Samuel is short, slender and rather vigorous (possibly because of his athletic background), but we can see that at present some extra steps turn to be a heavy duty for him.

He is sitting next to his wife at their kitchen table: he is deeply touched recollecting episodes of his life and his wife is laughing softly at him.

Many young couples will be envious of the warm-heartedness of their relations after so many years of their married life, after birth of their son and grandsons.

And at that moment looking at Samuel and his wife, you understand what makes them look so young: their bright shining eyes.

  • My family background

My name is Samuel Maxovich Eirus; I was born in 1929 in Tartu. [Tartu is a small town in Estonia, it is situated 185 km south-eastward from Tallin.]. My mother and father lived there. My paternal grandmother and grandfather also lived in Estonia, but I do not know in what town they were born.

My grandfather’s name was Samuel Eirus. My grandmother’s name was Sara Meirovna Eirus and her sister’s name was Rive Meirovna Brand. Brand was her 2nd husband’s surname and I know nothing about her 1st husband, except his surname: Kalyu. Rive arrived in Leningrad together with her 2nd husband and my grandmother. 

Unfortunately I know nothing about my great-grandparents. In fact I was not interested in it. You see, when I was little (we left Estonia when I was 4 years old) I was interested only in my toys and childish emotions. At that time I was not old enough to concern myself with my ancestors.

Only later I started to be interested in my ancestors, but... unfortunately I had no system: I asked Rive questions from time to time. She outlived my grandmother by many years; she went through the war together with us and died in 1950s. Sometimes in the evening we had long talks, and I used to ask her different questions.

It was Rive who told me that my grandfather and grandmother were professional revolutionaries. And Rive was a revolutionary too.

I do not know what they were engaged in besides that. I have no idea about their financial situation… But if they were revolutionaries and managed to provide an education to their children, I guess they were not poor. My father knew two foreign languages (German and French), and I think that at that time most Jews knew only their shtetl dialect and Russian. To my mind they were too much oppressed to become educated and study foreign languages. It was possible for Jews to receive formal education only if their parents already had got money and were persons of high position. All the rest were underprivileged.

Probably my grandparents were members of a political party (I do not know exactly what party). Their activity resulted in the attempt of making revolution, but it failed. My grandparents were arrested, tried and sentenced to death. They were kept in the death ward. Grandfather was executed by shooting, but Estonian authorities had no time to do it with my grandmother and her sister: our government exchanged them for some Estonian political figures arrested in Russia. Probably my grandmother and her sister were granted a political asylum in Russia and made Petrograd their home in the beginning of the XX century.

My grandmother and her sister (like all revolutionaries in the USSR) enjoyed certain privileges. Grandmother was a merit pensioner of Russian Federation. [Merit pension of Russian Federation was established for persons of priceless services to the country in the field of revolutionary, state, public and economic activities or for outstanding merits in the field of culture, science and engineering.] At that time they were very few. They used special shops and special medical service. Authorities appreciated old revolutionaries.

I do not remember the date of their arrival, but in 1933 they invited my father (son of Sara Meirovna), my mother, me and probably someone from our family to come to Leningrad from Estonia.

My Mom told me about her childhood very little. Her family lived in the town of Opochka. [Opochka is situated 130 km far from Pskov.] Her mother had got 3 children: 2 girls and a boy.

Her father (my maternal grandfather) was a true Jewish small trader: he had got a horse and carried junk from village to village, changing it for money or for different things. Mom said that he traveled much and worked as a real commercial traveler. So the family was rather poor. But my grandfather’s wife did not work and he had a horse, therefore he was wealthier than the others. On the other hand, they lived in out-of-the-way village: life was cheaper there than in cities.

They observed no Jewish traditions. The same was with my paternal grandparents: it goes without saying, because they were revolutionaries!

I know nothing about the way my mother and her relatives got to Estonia. I was born in Tartu where my father and mother lived at that time. I think that they lived there for a rather long period of time: my mother’s husband and her brother Mulya, for example, played together in the orchestra - I guess it means that the family settled down for good in Tartu.

My father was born in Estonian city Vyru in 1905. I already told you that my paternal grandfather was a professional revolutionary, and he managed to educate all his sons. My father spoke Russian, Estonian (I do not take these 2 languages into consideration), German and French. By the way I do not know if he knew Yiddish or Hebrew. Besides, he finished a musical school and played in the Estonian National Orchestra. I keep a photo showing him together with the orchestra musicians. Pay attention that musical education was not free at that time.

  • Growing up

My father was a real professional:  he was able to perform serious musical compositions. I remember my Mom mentioned that he wrote notes himself. Some musical scores he arranged for his balalaika [a national Russian musical instrument]. I remember him frequently writing notes at home…

I was not much interested about the way my father earned the living: in fact he was arrested when I was little. It was Rive who told me some facts about him when I asked her (for example) what I had to write down about my father in different questionnaires.

I know that after my father’s arrival in Leningrad he managed to find a job at LENEXPORTLES (at that time there were a lot of foreign firms), because he knew German language well. [LENEXPORTLES was founded in 1926 and was engaged in timber export.] He worked there as a quality control inspector. Possibly later this fact helped authorities to fabricate a charge against my father: he worked in a foreign firm and was in touch with foreigners.

Mikhail Kushnarev, a cousin of Rive and a coeval of my father graduated from the Leningrad Timber College. Probably it was him who helped my father to get that job. I guess that my father was educated in the sphere of timber industry, but I know nothing about the College he graduated from.

Later (after NEP 1 was abandoned) all foreign firms were closed, and my father found a job of a goods manager at the Krasnaya Zarya factory (I got to know about it much later). [Krasnaya Zarya factory was founded in 1897 and produced telephone sets.]

And here in Russia my father did not forget his musical knowledge. We arrived in Leningrad in 1933. We lived near Fontanka River and there was a Club named after Kalinin 2 next door. Like in other houses of culture they arranged different meetings including cinema shows. Different orchestras used to give small concerts before the beginning of cinema shows. And I remember very well that my father organized an ensemble (some sort of orchestra) to perform before cinema shows. He played balalaika.

I remember it very well because father used to take me with him, so that I could watch cinema show. I was absolutely not interested in performances of his ensemble. But to tell the truth, at present I remember only his performances and nothing about those feature films.

My father used to wear ordinary suits (secular).

I know nothing about the way my father got acquainted with my Mom: I was not interested and Mom didn’t tell me about my father much.

My mother was born in Opochka (a town near Pskov) in 1901. Her parents were poor. She finished only 4 classes, therefore it was possible to call her illiterate. But she was very beautiful!

Mom worked as a hairdresser. In the beginning she was a master; later she was appointed a manager of her hairdressing saloon because of her diligence and good service.

My Mom’s circle of acquaintance was rather wide because of her work: several theaters were situated near her hairdressing saloon. One of them was the Bolshoy Drama Theater named after Tovstonogov [it was founded in 1919 and is one of the most popular theaters of the city]. Another one was the Drama Theater named after Pushkin [one of the oldest professional theaters of Russia was founded in 1756]. There was also the Comedy Theater [founded in 1935] situated in Nevsky prospect. Therefore a lot of her customers were actors. Mom knew many actors personally. It was very interesting.

So we lived in that house near Fontanka River since 1933. The house was 4-storied, but later the 5th floor was built for the College of Film Engineers. It was a true mansion with marble stairs and tile floors. In the hall near the front door there was a small door leading to a special room which had been occupied by a door-keeper in the former times. Near the same front door there was a fireplace. I remember copper bars fixing the carpet on the staircase. Later the carpet disappeared, but the bars remained on the footsteps during a long period of time. So it was a real manor-house! To my mind it looked like a museum. Sometimes now I wish to go there and make a glance at it again. You see, I got married and left for another apartment. Later my brother also got married and they changed that apartment for a 3-room flat. At present my relatives do not live there any more.

The house was richly decorated, but we lived in 2 communicating rooms of a communal apartment 3. The apartment was very large, and our rooms were very large, too: about 50 and 25 square meters. And the fretted ceiling was 5 meters high.

We lived there 9 together: father, mother, grandmother, aunt Rive, her husband, 3 brothers of my father, and I. Of course my grandmother placed my aunt and her husband in the smaller communicating room. All the rest slept in the larger room on the floor or in folding-beds.

At that time my parents decided to cabin off (probably they already got to know about the future birth of my brother). But it was not easy to make 3 rooms of 2 communicating ones. We considered it to be absolutely inconvenient to disturb each other passing through the rooms. You see, in our rooms there were 3 windows and in the apartment there was a long corridor. So we used a part of our rooms to lengthen the corridor. We cut 2 doors in the wall and got 3 separate rooms.

My aunt’s husband Grigory Brand was an artist and a restorer. He could paint ceilings using oil paint. We had fretted ceiling. I guess earlier it was pictured, because once when the room was under repair I found there a painting which had been covered with plaster. My aunt’s husband managed to clear that painting and we saw angels and Amours there. All visitors used to hold their heads high and take a good look at it. And it arrested their attention for a long time.

My aunt’s husband told me a lot about his military service in the tsarist army. He said that Jews were not oppressed there. He was an infantryman and they devoted a lot of time to drilling and physical exercises. Many soldiers were not able to pull themselves up, and officers caned them on their backside until they pulled up. But it could not help. The officer used to order my aunt’s husband ‘Well, show them how it has to be done!’ And Grigory answered ‘Yes, Sir!’ He usually demonstrated excellent pull-ups and he was always pointed at by officers as an example. Unfortunately I can tell you nothing about the time of his service. I am not sure if he participated in the WWI, because I do not know how old he was at that time. I guess that he was younger than my grandmother; he seemed to be a coeval of Rive. He outlived my grandmother by many years. He outlived his wife too, but by a short period of time because after her death he took to drinking. After Rive’s death he managed to marry a Russian woman, and I think that after his death she made much money changing his large room for a smaller one.

Our room was 12 square meters large, and grandmother had a larger room. They lived there 3 together: my grandmother, her younger son Emil and one of her elder sons Grigory (he was younger than my father). To tell the truth, Grigory did not live with us: he had been arrested and exiled (we hoped that he would come back one day). Practically I do not remember him, but I remember that he was the shortest in the family.

There was stove heating, electricity and water supply. We had got a large copper gas-bath. We washed in turn: there were 12 rooms in our communal apartment.

The kitchen was very large: about 50 square meters. There was a large tiled gas-stove, but I remember that it was not in use: at that time people preferred kerosene stoves.

Every family had got a little table in the kitchen. And later when they supplied gas and central heating, there appeared 4 gas-stoves: one stove for 3 families.

I remember that we all lived in peace and friendship. Families were large (by the way, at present 2 persons often are not able to get along together). We were less fastidious…

In the day time all adults worked, children were in kindergartens or in day nurseries. And in the evening all members of the families gathered in the kitchen to have supper, because their rooms were rather small for it. They moved tables to the middle of the kitchen making one large table. All people sat at that table eating their own meals and talking about everything.

And children (including me: at that time I was 5 or 6 years old) ran around the table, collecting clips and gathering some tasty things. Adults usually sent us to the corridor. The corridor was very long (it consisted of 3 long parts). We used to ride bicycles in competition with each other…

I do not remember many Jews among father’s or mother’s friends. Most visitors were father’s colleagues or musicians. I remember that talking to them, father often played his balalaika and they argued about something. We (children) were usually sent to the corridor not to distract adults.

Neither my father nor anyone from our family was religious. I mean they never showed it anyhow… I also remember no icons, nothing of that kind. Our family members were indifferent to prays and kippot. I am sure in it because they were communists, especially my grandmother and her sister Rive (they were true revolutionaries, faithful to principles of communists). But! Recently I found a photo of my father where he wore some sort of a badge in the form of magen David (it was fixed to his coat’s lapel).

My grandmother knew Yiddish: she spoke Yiddish with her sister and my Mom.

And I cannot speak Yiddish at all. Unfortunately I did not listen to my grandmother speaking Yiddish to her sister or my Mom. I was not interested.

They did not speak German language. I am sure in it, because nobody of my relatives could help me when I started studying German at school. If they knew, I would have no problems.

All of us were hundred-per-cent Jews. I know that Grigory, the 2nd husband of Rive was Jewish, too. When I was going to receive my passport, authorities asked my certificate of birth from Estonia, where I was born. According to the inquiry Estonians sent us my certificate in Estonian language. It was written there that my parents were Jewish.

My paternal grandmother had got 4 sons: my father Max, his elder brother Jacob, his younger brother Grigory (all of them were adult when they arrived in Petrograd) and the youngest one Emil (he was a schoolboy at that time). Though I was born in Tartu, I remember almost nothing about our life there. We left in 1933.

I already told you that Grigory, my father’s younger brother was arrested before the beginning of the war for some reason and exiled to Kamchatka. Sometimes he sent us letters. Therefore now it seems to me that he was arrested not for political reason. You see, it happened even before the beginning of mass repressions. Besides he was allowed to correspond with his relatives. We often sent him parcels. Many times I watched my grandmother making up a parcel for Grigory. We sent him warm clothes. Unfortunately during the war our correspondence was not maintained (I do not remember the reason).

In 1937 authorities started mass repressions 4. My grandmother’s sons were arrested first. They took all her sons except Emil, the youngest, who was a schoolboy at that time.

Special NKVD 5 Troika (no public trial) sentenced my father and his elder brother Jacob to 10 years of camps without right of correspondence. As we got to know much later (after Stalin’s death) it meant execution (at bottom of fact).

I do not know when Jacob was born. In Leningrad he married a Russian girl Antonina. They had got a daughter. When he was arrested in 1937, his wife changed her surname for her maiden name. I think she also changed their daughter’s surname … At that time a lot of people did it: they were afraid to be relatives of enemies of the people 6. Authorities used to inform former coworkers of every new enemy of the people. I know nothing about Antonina’s profession, but they often visited us and I remember that they were a family of real intellectuals. You see, that was the time of liquidation of Russian intelligentsia. They were engineers, very good specialists. Unfortunately I know very little about them. Asking my Mom, I tried to learn something only about my father. Of course I had to ask more… 

Jacob was the 2nd to be arrested in our family. Grigory was the 1st one among my grandmother’s sons. In 1937 it became clear for us that my father was in danger, too.

At that particular time (I remember it quite well) Misha Kushnarev, a cousin of Rive came to visit us and had a talk with my father. He said ‘Max, things look black; you are near to be arrested.’ Misha worked as an engineer in the sphere of timber industry (somewhere in Leningrad region). He said ‘You should leave. You should come with me, you should disappear!’ My father was very stubborn, he answered ‘I am not guilty, there must be some misunderstanding.’ And so on and so forth. So he did not take the advice and you know the result…

Mom told me that my father was very sociable, very cheerful and liked to talk. I guess he had said too much in a company, and somebody informed NKVD against him (somebody who was evil-eyed). But when my father was taken away, we were not informed about any charges against him.

It happened in summer when we were at dacha 7. Father was alone at home. Our neighbors told us later that he was taken at night (we knew that it always happened at night time). They arrived in a black car (people called in Cherny Voron). They used to come together with a street cleaner, and father had to open the door. They made a search. Everything was turned upside down: all linen was thrown out of the wardrobe, all books were on the floor… Our neighbors informed us, and we immediately rushed home…

Mother addressed municipal officials and got to know that father was in the Kresty prison [a well-known prison on the territory of Leningrad]. At first Mom brought father food packages. And then one day they refused to take her package and informed that father was sentenced to 10 years of camps without right of correspondence. We never got to know where he was taken from Leningrad. I told you already that only much later we found out what it meant. My father was hopeful of justice, but alas: at that time there was no justice.

In 1958 my Mom received a certificate of father’s death. It was written there that he was rehabilitated posthumously 8.

In 1992 I officially asked for additional information about my father’s destiny (a victim of political repressions). I received another certificate (archival) in reply to my inquiry. It read that my father had been accused of espionage activity for the benefit of Estonia. In 1938 he was sentenced to execution, and executed by shooting. In 1938 victims of mass repressions used to be buried near Levashevo of Leningrad region. I got no more information about the burial place. Every year I visit Levashevo.

You already know that my grandmother was a merit pensioner of the Russian Federation, an old revolutionary. During mass repressions she was not arrested. I remember her gathering friends at home in the evenings. Probably there were lawyers among them, and they wrote letters to Voroshilov 9 and Zhdanov. [Zhdanov Andrey (1896-1948) was a Soviet communist party figure, a close companion-in-arms of Stalin.] They considered them to be important persons, worth to pay their attention to the facts. The answer was usually formal: do not worry, all circumstances would be investigated, innocent people would be released, guilty persons would be punished.

In 1940 my grandmother died from rupture of the heart. She was a hypertensive patient and suffered much...

After father’s arrest in 1937 Mom had to work hard at her hairdressing saloon. She came home very late: it was necessary to earn money to feed children.

I remember that we never were rich. Possibly if we remained in Estonia we could have lived better… But we moved to Leningrad.

Authorities could have banished us from the city: a lot of family members of enemies of people had been banished to Siberia or to Kazakhstan. One day they said ‘We are leaving.’ And that was all. Nobody knew where they moved… Fortunately we remained in Leningrad (I think due to my grandmother’s merits).

On a lower floor there lived a family of Charles Shreder, a German engineer. I studied in the same school with his children (they were 3 or 4). I remember that the youngest boy had 6 fingers on his hand and used to show it everybody (he was little: 3 or 4 years old). One day I came to them and saw them very much upset: they had to leave. They were not arrested, they only had to leave somewhere: to Kazakhstan or to the Far East (to uncrowded regions). It was awful: people usually were taken directly to woods and given spades to dig earth-houses for living... It happened before the beginning of the war, in 1938 or 1940. Later I heard nothing about them.

A lot of foreigners lived in our house. Our neighbor in the flat overhead was an engineer from America. He had got a family and lived in a large room. I knew that engineer’s son, we called him American. He was very orderly, self-restrained, and quiet. Besides he wore boots, long socks and shorts. Here nobody wore those things. We were dressed like tramps, we ran and shouted! He was absolutely different. I do not understand how we managed to become friends. He invited me to visit their apartment. There I saw different electric toys (for example, a toy railway which we could only dream about!). I remember that when I was going to visit them, Mom used to say ‘Don’t forget to say Good evening!’

His father, an engineer used to smoke a pipe. I remember their large room: one half of it was occupied by the engineer (his secretaire, his desk): he used to work there smoking his pipe. And we played in the opposite corner. In the middle of the room there was a large table separating 2 parts of the room.

In our communal apartment there lived two Germans. The woman’s name was Elza (I do not remember her surname). She helped me in mathematics. Later they left Leningrad. They were not arrested. Probably they were German citizens and worked in Russia according to contract.

In fact there were many foreigners working in Russia at that time. There were Englishmen, too. I read the book by Evgenia Ginzburg (she was an active communist party figure). She wrote there that many Germans (foreign communists) had been taken to Stalin’s camps. She did not explain the reason.

At present I got to know a lot from different books. I read there that mass repressions started in 1935. In 1935 authorities arrested communists who participated in Trotsky 10 and Bukharin coalition. [Bukharin Nikolay (1888-1938) was a well-known Soviet state and party figure.] And at school teachers told us that they were parricides. In fact the charges were trumped-up: Stalin wanted to destroy the old guards, who created the USSR. Stalin destroyed people without distinction 11, and engineers, too.

At present I read much. I always liked to read books, but now a lot of things move me to tears (I am old!). Authors of the books I read speak about many people lost during Stalin’s repressions. People know about them almost nothing, only the fact that they were banished.

Time was getting on. The war burst out.

Most probably my father’s elder brothers were executed by shooting. Grigory stopped sending letters to us (I guess he was also killed in the camp). Nobody of them was found alive.

Only Emil, my grandmother’s younger son remained with us. Shortly before the war he finished his school (he was 18 years old). It was a good boy: he could draw very well, he studied very well. He was drafted. He went to the local military registration and enlistment office and what a surprise! They called him to serve in the navy. Why? He had got a congenital heart disease. Nevertheless… He showed us his new identity card with an anchor and a star.

Emil was appointed a political officer 12. During the war we corresponded. In 1943 he fought somewhere near Leningrad. Emil loved my younger brother very much. He used to send us his ration certificate. I keep one of those certificates till now.

In 1943 we received a notification that Emil was wounded, died and was buried in the town of Pitkyaranta [in Karelia]. My younger brother (before his departure to Israel) and I visited Pitkyaranta twice. There is a common grave, but we did not manage to find Emil’s name. We went to the local Ispolkom 13, showed them a letter (a notification about Emil’s death in Pitkyaranta). They promised to inscribe Emil’s name on the stele (all victims had to be named there). We promised to check the result later, but did not manage: my brother left for Israel, and it is too much for me alone.

War began in 1941 when I was 12 years old. Mom said that at that time I was a typical idler (capricious and unmanageable child). I think I was simply spoilt: I had got too many tutors… Before the war burst out I finished 4 classes. Our form-master Ekaterina Nikolaevna, a very good teacher used to say that I was very lazy, but very capable. Nobody could set me on the right track. In the 4th form our math teacher considered me to be a dunce and tried to beat me on my head with a ruler.

In 1941 we hoped to start our school studies. But one clever local official decided to evacuate children of different ages to the Leningrad suburbs (later I read about it in a newspaper). Children were placed in pioneer camps 14. It happened in August, possibly authorities were afraid of bombardments. I guess they believed that the war would be finished quickly (like the Soviet-Finnish War 15) and children would return home soon. But in fact everything turned out tragically. I remember that in the pioneer camp we spent about 2 months. And then one day Germans appeared very close to our camp… I am not sure that they understood who we were, but they started bombing and firing upon us as if we were a military unit. Our teachers jumped out of their cottages and shouted ‘Children! Run into the wood! Germans are here!’ And we ran in various directions into the wood. We never returned to the camp because we were very frightened, ran very far away and lost our way.

I found myself in a group of 7 or 8 children. Among us there was an elder girl. We weaved our way through the forest. At last we came up to the railroad and argued about the way to choose. Younger children got tired and started to cry ‘We want to eat! We want to sleep!’ Hobbling, we reached a railway station. There we saw a troop train ready to move to Leningrad. We asked soldiers to take us with them and described our situation. What could they do? The train commander agreed. Soldiers gave us food and the train moved. It moved very slowly because Germans controlled most roads. We arrived in Leningrad in the morning. Moscow railway station was situated not far from my home and half an hour later I already was at home.

My younger brother also was in a pioneer camp in the suburb of the city. After my return home Mom rushed there and managed to bring him home safely. So for us that was the beginning of the war, blockade 16 and starvation.

From the very beginning of the war we got to know about fascist atrocities. We read newspapers. As for me I was subscribed to Leninskiye Iskry [a Soviet newspaper for pioneers], then to Komsomolskaya Pravda [a Soviet daily newspaper for youth audience] and later to Leningradskaya Pravda. We also listened to the radio. By the way, we used to know about bomb raids and bombardments from the radio (we also heard factories, steam locomotives, and automobiles honking in the beginning of bomb raids). On the radio they informed us about atrocities of fascists: probably informers were people who managed to escape from encirclements, came from partisan detachments, or gave information from occupied regions.

  • During the war

So the war burst out and we all remained in the besieged Leningrad: my younger brother Mark, Mom, my aunt Rive, her husband and I. We managed to survive during terrible starvation.

After the beginning of the war, people were ordered to liquidate all wooden constructions which could be burnt by fire-bombs. And in our yard there was a laundry (a wooden house). Yard keepers were mainly women (men were at the front), therefore boys of my age and older helped to demolish that building. We worked under direction of the yard keepers: leaned our weight upon the walls. We also had to paint wooden joist ceiling with special compound and prepare containers with water and sand in case of fire-bombing. Earlier we played, but during the war we had to work.

Later we got another job: to check blackout of windows. At that time in Leningrad electricity supply was still in order and we had to go around our house and check the blackout. If we noticed light, we ran to that apartment and informed our housemates. People listened to our requirements, because our lives depended on it. We were on duty almost every evening and it was interesting for us, because at that time we had nothing else to do and it was our responsibility. We were engaged in it till the beginning of winter when authorities cut off electricity supply.

At first they cut off water supply, and we had to bring water from Fontanka River (the gradual descent to the river was near our house). Adults made there a hole in ice. I used to take a long serving spoon and a three-liter bottle. Water was rather deep there in the hole, therefore I had to kneel on ice and draw the water. I remember that people stood in line to take water.

When the electricity supply was cut off, people thought out the so-called Leningrad wick lamps: a small bottle with kerosene (kerosene was on sale all the time) and a wick. I perfected the construction by using a toy metal wheel with a hole for fixing wick. People also had no firewood. We burnt chairs, tables, etc. Later we started burning books. We had a lot of them. I especially remember one book Maugli (it was large and colorful, its paper was of high-quality, its cover was red with beautiful gold stamping). The book was of great value for me; but one day I had to permit Mom to burn it, because she wanted to make tea…

At that time my brother attended a kindergarten: I took him there early in the morning and took him back home at 6 o’clock in the evening. Parents gave kindergarten employees their children’s ration cards and they arranged 3 meals a day for children. But it was necessary to give Mark something to eat in the evening when he came home (Mom managed to give him something, I do not remember what exactly). My brother kept himself to himself and was sleepy all the time: he could sleep both in the sitting and standing positions. At that time we all were sleepy and hungry, but I managed to keep control upon myself due to my important duties: I had to go shopping, bring water and firewood (in bombed-out houses we used to collect everything that could burn, including wall-paper).

Once in winter (in February) people could not get their ration of bread during 3 days. The reason was unknown: shop assistants explained that fascists had destroyed waterpipe by bombing. I guess it was not the reason, because people took water from Neva, from Fontanka and I think the employees of bread-baking plant did the same. People were informed about nothing, in spite of the fact that radio worked 24 hours a day. People stood in line near bakeries hoping to get bread. They stood 3 days and 3 nights: at night they did not leave for home because they were afraid to loose their place in line. People suffered much, because most of them were already exhausted and it was very frosty at night.

I remember myself standing in line near bakery keeping our ration cards in my right mitten. I was very sleepy and rested my back against the counter. I felt nothing, but when I woke up, I found out that my right mitten disappeared. I cried ‘Oh! Where are my cards?’ I searched the bakery for the mitten, but uselessly. I became very anxious, because the month was only in its first decade. I could not imagine myself telling Mom that I had lost the cards. Probably if Fontanka River was not covered with ice, I would have committed a suicide... I went along the street and cried. When I came home, Mom was at home. I said ‘Mom, kill me: I lost our ration cards!’ Mom embraced me, we cried together, and then she said ‘Well, we have to survive…’

At that time people had no stocks. But Mom knew that in Leningrad there was a black market where it was possible to buy bread for jewelry. In the beginning of the war many people voluntary gave their jewelry to authorities to help the army. Mom kept small golden wrist-watch in memory of Daddy: he had given it to her as a wedding present. Mom went to the black market and swapped it for 3 kilograms of bread. It saved our lives.

When fascists were going to storm Leningrad once again, authorities decided to evacuate mothers with 2 or more children. Therefore in spring of 1942 we were evacuated.

We received an order to be ready for leaving. A car brought us to the railway station. And we left, though we did not want to. We already heard about the Road of Life, knew that it was regularly bombed… Earlier it was on a voluntary basis, but at that moment we were ordered to leave and had to obey. Of course it was up to Mom (we were ready both to stay with her in Leningrad and to follow her everywhere).

In evacuation we were in Bashkiria, in a local village called Malomeleus (it was situated near the city of Belebey). [Belebey is situated 180 km far from Ufa.] In that village people burnt wood for heating. My brother and I had to chop firewood, and Mom worked. Local people showed us (boys) how to saw and cut wood. Mom worked as a hairdresser, but there was no hairdressing saloon, she had to go from one house of the village to another and offer her services. Not many people agreed… They used to give her food or clothes for her services.

Later I worked in the field: harrowed. We worked together with local guys, elder boys of 16 or 17 years old were our leaders. All the boys were good friends.

Evacuated people were given American humanitarian help: we received a lot of clothes. It was just in time, because we had already worn out our clothes. I got yellow trousers. Local boys ran after me crying ‘American!’ (they wore linsey-woolsey clothes). In reply I threw stones towards them, because they bothered me very much. Certainly I did not want to hurt anybody.

Later we moved to Bishbulyak town, because Mom was a hairdresser and nobody needed a hairdresser in the village. In the town she worked in the club where they showed movies every evening. There we lived a little bit better, because they gave a vegetable garden at our disposal. And we cut wood ourselves as we did before.

In evacuation I studied at school 2 years. I studied in winter, and worked in summer. We left for evacuation in 1942. There I repeated the 4th form (they checked my knowledge and found out that my level was rather low) and finished the 5th and the 6th ones. When we returned to Leningrad, it seemed to be too late for me to go on studying.

In evacuation Rose (wife of Mulya, my mother's brother) and her little daughter Raya lived with us for some period of time. Raya was about 4 years old at that time. At first they were evacuated to Kara-Kalpakia [autonomy of Uzbekistan]. Rose’s surname was Vareyatova (the surname of my mother’s brother and my mother’s maiden name). Rose’s husband perished at the front line. Raya was ill. They corresponded with us and Mom invited them to us (to Bashkiria).

They lived with us about a year. But Rose did not like it, because she could not find a job. You see, she was a fashionable dressmaker. But who was interested in fashionable underwear at that time? Besides there was no fabric at all (only sackcloth).

  • After the war and recent years

After the end of the war we got to know that my mother's mother who remained in Estonia (she refused to leave for evacuation because of her age) had been betrayed by her neighbors. When Germans occupied those territories, they started to destroy communists and Jews. Grandmother did not look like a Jewess (she was very old and gray-haired), but someone informed fascists that she was Jewish. They came and took her away. This information came to us from Rose, who returned to Estonia after the end of the war. I do not know who told her about grandmother. In Estonia they did not and do not like Jews in contrast to other western countries.

Raya graduated from the Pedagogical College and became a teacher. Later she worked in the district communist party committee. She was a Komsomol 17 member and later a Communist Party member.

I was already adult and more or less independent when I spent my first summer holiday with them. I do not remember how old was Rose at that time, but we were in touch with her, we corresponded. She often visited us together with Raya. In fact it was not a problem to go to Estonia from Leningrad: we used to go there by bus (no visa was required, because Estonia 18 was of one of Soviet Republics). Much later when Rose died, we attended her funeral…

We were in touch with Raya for a long time. She married a Russian guy, they had got 2 children. The boy’s name was Igor and I do not remember the girl’s name. Raya’s surname was Zhanzharova. When everything was balled up [Perestroyka 19 in Estonia, Estonians started oppressing communists and Russians and people wanted to run away from Estonia. A lot of them arrived in Russia. But Raya had got friends abroad and decided to leave for Canada together with her children. Unfortunately she suddenly died from heart attack. We attended her funeral together with my brother, who is in Israel now. But Raya’s children did left for Canada. We lost touch with them… Much later my brother’s daughter found them through the Internet, they corresponded and already visited Raya’s children in Canada!

My mother’s sister Alexandra was married to Eugeny Shuster. They had got 2 children: Roman and Simon. Simon, the younger brother died during the war. Before the war he studied at the musical school (he played the violin). When the war burst out, he started working as a milling-machine operator at a plant. When the blockade began, all plants were evacuated, and his factory moved to Chelyabinsk. There he could not survive under unbearable conditions (he was only a boy, mamma's darling) and decided to run away from Chelyabinsk to Leningrad. They caught him on his way and sent to penal battalion [penal battalions consisted of military men who committed crimes during wartime], where he was killed. You see, the boy was considered to be a deserter!

Roman was a student of the 3rd course when he was drafted in 1939. He finished a school of younger commanders and fought at the German front line and later in Japan 20. When we finished war against Germany, our armies were moved to Japan [the interviewee is mistaken: they moved to the Far East, Soviet armies never were in Japan]. Roman returned home with a lot of military awards. I remember that he was an orderly of a high commander. After the end of the war he started working at the Leningrad cartographical factory. He considered himself to be too old for studying. All his life long he worked. Recently he became a pensioner, but unfortunately while crossing the street he was run over and died. Roman was married to a Russian woman, but they divorced long time ago (he did not marry for the 2nd time). He had got a son Anatoly Shuster. Anatoly lives in St. Petersburg. He is married to a Jewess.

I do not remember when aunt Alexandra arrived in Leningrad. I remember her and her husband well because we often visited each other. She stayed in Leningrad during the blockade. Aunt Alexandra received an award for defense of Leningrad: she was in fighting battalion 21 (they put out fire bombs on city roofs).

Alexandra died in 1980s and her husband died in 1975.

When we arrived in Leningrad after evacuation, we placed ourselves at aunt Alexandra’s room, because our room appeared to be occupied. At that time Roman was still in the army. They lived in a 2-room communal apartment (occupied 1 room). And next door there lived Valya, a girl whom Roman married later. She was very nice and I often gave her the look. I was 16 years old, and she was older (maybe 20). She was very sociable and we frequently talked about nothing.

Rive, my grandmother’s sister survived the war: she evacuated from Leningrad in February 1942 (through the Road of the Life 22), but I do not know where they went. Rive together with her husband returned to Leningrad in autumn of 1945.

We were in evacuation till 1945 and then returned to Leningrad. At that time it was possible to be hired for disassembling blockages in Leningrad. Recruiters made contracts and gave people advance payment. So we signed a contract. You know that only Mom was able to work there, but we all were hired. I do not know how she managed to arrange it (possibly she bribed the recruiter or did something else). That was the way we returned to Leningrad 23.

When we returned to Leningrad, it was difficult time for us, because our room had been occupied. We lodged at mother's sister and they had only one room. We slept in the kitchen, in the corridor, everywhere. You see, our room (warm and cozy) was occupied by a woman (our former neighbor). We were at law with her during all summer long. We still had our residence permit 24 and had the right to get our room back. We successfully got it back and moved from Rive’s place to our empty room.

Mom told me ‘You should continue your studies.’ But I was already 16 years old. I answered ‘Mom, I’ll enter an industrial school.’ [Industrial schools gave young people who finished 7 classes a worker’s profession.] I went there myself, while at that time a lot of young people received an order from authorities to become a student of an industrial school.

I realized that it was necessary to help Mom earning money for living. She worked as a hairdresser and her salary was not adequate to support our family. Mom cried when I told her about my decision. She asked me to enter a technical school and promised to do her best to make both ends meet. [Technical School in the USSR and a number of other countries was a special educational institution preparing specialists of middle level for various industrial and agricultural institutions, transport, communication, etc.] But I refused: technical schools offered a small stipend and industrial schools gave students packed meal. So I made my decision (it happened in 1945).

I remember that when I came to the local communist party committee to get a permit, they were very surprised: a Jew was going to study at industrial school on voluntary basis! I explained them everything regarding financial situation in our family. I said that I wanted to help my Mom.

I had some plans. Before I made that decision I got advice from some elderly men. They said that wood or metal turner was a very good profession: I would have large salary and there would be no need to get higher education.  I understood it, but planned to work and become a part-time student.

Well, indeed I was the only Jew at our industrial school. I know that Jewish families were skeptical regarding working class.

At my industrial school and later in the army I came across no manifestations of anti-Semitism. Soldiers in the army sometimes laughed at me, but friendly. But later (I am sure in it!) my nationality 25 played a trick on me. I was sent to penal battalion and found myself among young guys who had been not lucky to be on the occupied territory. They told me that during the war they were forced by Germans to serve in police under the threat of execution. Most of them were 16-19 years old at that time. Later they gave themselves up on voluntary basis, but were taken to the penal battalion. They laughed ‘We know the reason why we are here, and what about you?’ At that time it did not come to my mind that it could be connected with my item 5. It was necessary to fight there (in the penal battalion) and for me it made no difference.

Now I realize that my item 5 influenced my life greatly… Perhaps it was additional minus to my status of a member of family of the enemy of people. I never told anybody about my father. I hoped that most people would not rake over the dust and ashes of my past. If I was asked about my father, I answered that he had been killed in fights with fascists. Probably, real facts were recorded somewhere in my documents and interested people were able to find them, but the rest were not concerned. For instance, at our industrial school people did not care. To tell the truth, it surprised me a little: our school was situated at a military factory. That factory was a former shipyard, adjoining the Admiralteysky dockyard [the Admiralty dockyard was founded in 1704]. At that time our factory produced submarines - so it was in the secret list. Of course they had a valid reason not to admit me into the school. Probably I was a small fry for them. Anyway it happened.

I finished my industrial school and got the 5th grade (rather high for a final-year student of industrial school). My school-leaving certificate was full of good marks (do you remember my school teacher of mathematics?), because I liked studying at my school!

Due to my 5th working grade I got draft deferment. Therefore I was called up for military service at the age of 21, when all draft deferments were cancelled by authorities. I already told you that they sent me to a penal battalion - and I know nothing about the reason.

In the army I was a private. My fellow and I got axes and arm-saws. We were taken to the forest and got an order to cut 8 cubic meters of wood. Every day.

All my life long I went in for sports. I liked different kinds of sport and managed to get the 2nd category in track-and-field athletics and the 1st category in skiing.

In the army my physical fitness was of great assistance for me. At first we (together with my partner) could not fulfill our norm. Our political officer said ‘I see that your team works rather badly.’ And he took my partner away from me. Instead of him he gave me another guy, a real muscleman. That guy looked at me appraisingly and said ‘He will not be able to follow my working pace.’ I was silent. And the political officer said ‘Try him!’ So we started. I decided not to ask for his mercy until he himself stopped sawing. At last he became covered with sweat, I was wet also, and both of us got tired. But I won. Later he said ‘I never expected it from a guy like you’.

To tell the truth, I looked rather weak: I was only 1,68 m high and my weight was 60 kg… But probably sport works wonders. For example, in order to ski 15-20 kilometers you need both spirit and strength. I liked sport. I considered skiing to be sport for horses. I dreamed to become a coach (to enter a school for coaches at the Leningrad College of Physical Culture named after Lesgaft). [Leningrad College of Physical Culture named after Lesgaft was founded in 1896.] But in order to become a student I had to finish 7 classes. After my army service I went to the 6th form (again) of the evening school. By the way, later I did not manage to enter the College of Physical Culture, because I failed at the Russian language examination. But my achievements in sports were much better.

After 3 months in the army during the evening roll-call an officer suddenly read out an order: ‘Private Eirus is placed under the orders of the Leningrad military department beginning from tomorrow morning.’ Soldiers’ eyes started from their sockets. The same was with my eyes. What was the matter? The point was that all qualified workers from our factory had been drafted and the factory failed to fulfill the production plan. The director was reprimanded. He tried to explain that the factory lacked qualified workers and authorities brought all of us back to the factory. It happened in 1951.

After that I worked at our factory. Meanwhile I finished 10 classes. Then I entered and 6 years later graduated from the Timber College (evening course) in 1964. I decided to tread in my father's steps. I expected to be sent somewhere according to mandatory job assignment 26. But they gave me my diploma and let me go to the four winds. I found a job of engineer-designer and worked at different research institutions.

On graduation from my College I got acquainted with my future wife. We are still married. We have got a son. My wife Margarita Goldina was born in Khabarovsk in 1938. She graduated from the Sanitary College in Leningrad. She works as a department head at a regional sanitary and epidemiologic station. I got acquainted with her when I was 35 years old: I had no time earlier. 

My wife’s mother Maria is Russian. She worked in hospital as a doctor. My wife’s father Efim Goldin was a Jew from Mogilev, a retired lieutenant colonel. All his life long he worked in the Far East. He knew Japanese language very well. He used to say that it was Japanese language that saved his life when a lot of professional soldiers suffered from repressions. Efim was able not only to speak, but also to make leaflets, write newspaper articles in Japanese, he also worked with prisoners. Efim knew that if he was in Leningrad, he would have been arrested for sure. He served in different regions on the country; therefore my wife (being a little girl) studied at different schools in great number of towns. By the way, it engraved in my mind that there was a period in their life when they lived in Birobidzhan 27.

Family of my wife observed no Jewish traditions, because her father was a political worker and a military man. They were absolutely not religious. You see, civilians were able to have private life, but political workers were treated more strictly 28, especially in the army. Military men use to live in military camps together with their families. Very often their families live in the same house with families of other officers as in large communal apartment; therefore it is difficult to keep secrets. And we must take into account that at that time there was a terrible number of informers. Anyway my wife came from not religious family.

At first I worked at the Research Institute of Mechanical Engineering. There I had problems with the chiefs. My work was interesting. I was fond of new industrial technologies and I worked in the department of new technologies. I already chose my future dissertation topic and it was approved. I only needed to make an agreement with the head of laboratory, because it was necessary for me to have access to laboratory for carrying out tests.

I addressed the laboratory chief with a suggestion to change my working place for his laboratory. He asked me about the reason. I answered frankly that I was going to write a dissertation and it was necessary for me to work on vibrating machines. He refused. I guess my item 5 played its role. Besides he was a PhD and was afraid of rivals. You see, I heard rumors about him: he was that sort of a department head who had to receive and approve suggestions of different development engineers in his duty bound. People said he collected a number of those innovations, summarized and gave himself out to be the real author of them. I think it was possible. 

This story had its background. Some time before I suggested my first invention. Talking to him, I hinted that I had no objection to his participation in my work. I said that I appreciated his experience. In fact it was an invitation to become my co-designer. He seemed to agree and took my data. But several months later when I reminded him about our talk, he said ‘No, we will not work together. We will submit our ideas separately’.

In our Institute there was a Patent Department, where employees checked every invention before applying for a patent in Moscow. The process of checking usually took about a year and covered both our country and foreign ones. Regarding my first invention, I made that check together with my coworkers earlier and the Patent Department employees knew me very well. One day they called me and informed that they received another application for patent from that laboratory head. They said that the topic was very similar to mine. They also asked me why I was not present in the list of authors. I visited the Department and found out that he took my idea as a basis and added some details! Point at issue! But as I had registered my invention first, the Institute director decided to send my application first.

So the laboratory head nursed a grievance against me, in spite of the fact that I had invited him to become my co-author. It was him who appeared to be unscrupulous! And certainly he started to press me. I understood that it was time to leave the Institute. And I left my service.

Later (since the beginning of 1970s) I worked in different institutions, I already told you about it. I have six copyright certificates. But it brought me no profit...

When my brother left for Israel (it happened approximately in 1996), he called me to follow him, but I refused. The point is that I am an engineer and I like to work. In the beginning of 1990s (when Perestroika came) they simply knocked me out from the institute and said that I could take comfort in my pension (at least), while many other people had got nothing. But I considered myself to be still able to work; I considered my head to be still worth something. You see, in fact Israel is a large village! They have no industry: mainly rural economy. They certainly try to regulate, but it is very difficult for them. Even now when my brother comes to visit me (he usually does it every 2 years), he says that it is very difficult to find job in Israel.

Germany is absolutely different. Everybody knows that it is a hi-tech industrial country with advanced exact science. I wanted to go to Germany. It also happened many years ago: approximately when my brother left for Israel. Germany offered to cover traveling expenses and free-of-charge accommodation. At present it is better not to go there: it is useless. Recently a friend of mine had to come back from Germany: welfare payment was the only income she could get there. But those people, who managed to leave for Germany earlier, live there much better. I remember a lot of people standing in line to get into the German embassy! At that time I wanted to leave for Germany together with my son. But later everything changed: my son found good work and decided that it would be silly to give up his new work.

My son Igor was born in 1964. He finished 7 classes, then technical school. He was sent to work at a car pool. But later he changed it for a bread-baking plant. He worked there as a driver till Perestroika. At present he repairs automobiles at a privately owned car repair service: it means that his salary is high. He is married for the 2nd time. And I have two grandsons; Alexey and Mikhail (Alexey is by my son’s previous marriage). His wife’s name is Elena.

And my brother and his family live in Israel. They are very pleased to have left. At present we are often informed about firing in Israel. I suggest my brother’s family to come back if they are frightened. They answer ‘No, we’ll never return!’ They left about 10 years ago, when Israel already became independent. Sorry, I am not sure about the Israeli historical events: I do not keep my eye on it...

My brother’s daughter Julia was the 1st to leave for Israel. She graduated from the Architectural College. [The Architectural College was founded in 1832.] She started working at the beginning of Perestroika and soon realized that she had no future there as an engineer. She also had nobody in sight regarding marriage: all men around her were married.

Here in St. Petersburg we used to receive appreciable assistance from the Hesed Avraham Welfare Center 29: food packages and medical care. But it depends on your pension: the poorer you are the greater assistance you get. To tell the truth, since my pension had been increased (I have a status of the former citizen of the besieged Leningrad), I did stopped addressing the Hesed Center.

We never received any assistance from Germany.

  • Glossary:

1 NEP

The so-called New Economic Policy of the Soviet authorities was launched by Lenin in 1921. It meant that private business was allowed on a small scale in order to save the country ruined by the Revolution of 1917 and the Russian Civil War. They allowed priority development of private capital and entrepreneurship. The NEP was gradually abandoned in the 1920s with the introduction of the planned economy.

2 Kalinin, Mikhail (1875-1946)

Soviet politician, one of the editors of the party newspaper Pravda, chairman of the All-Russian Central Executive Committee of Soviets of the RSFSR (1919-1922), chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR (1922-1938), chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR (1938-1946). He was one of Stalin’s closest political allies.

3 Communal apartment

The Soviet power wanted to improve housing conditions by requisitioning ‘excess’ living space of wealthy families after the Revolution of 1917. Apartments were shared by several families with each family occupying one room and sharing the kitchen, toilet and bathroom with other tenants. Because of the chronic shortage of dwelling space in towns communal or shared apartments continued to exist for decades. Despite state programs for the construction of more houses and the liquidation of communal apartments, which began in the 1960s, shared apartments still exist today.

4 Great Terror (1934-1938)

During the Great Terror, or Great Purges, which included the notorious show trials of Stalin's former Bolshevik opponents in 1936-1938 and reached its peak in 1937 and 1938, millions of innocent Soviet citizens were sent off to labor camps or killed in prison. The major targets of the Great Terror were communists. Over half of the people who were arrested were members of the party at the time of their arrest. The armed forces, the Communist Party, and the government in general were purged of all allegedly dissident persons; the victims were generally sentenced to death or to long terms of hard labor. Much of the purge was carried out in secret, and only a few cases were tried in public ‘show trials’. By the time the terror subsided in 1939, Stalin had managed to bring both the Party and the public to a state of complete submission to his rule. Soviet society was so atomized and the people so fearful of reprisals that mass arrests were no longer necessary. Stalin ruled as absolute dictator of the Soviet Union until his death in March 1953.

5 NKVD

People’s Committee of Internal Affairs; it took over from the GPU, the state security agency, in 1934

6 Enemy of the people

Soviet official term; euphemism used for real or assumed political opposition.

7 Dacha

country house, consisting of small huts and little plots of lands. The Soviet authorities came to the decision to allow this activity to the Soviet people to support themselves. The majority of urban citizens grow vegetables and fruit in their small gardens to make preserves for winter.

8 Rehabilitation in the Soviet Union

Many people who had been arrested, disappeared or killed during the Stalinist era were rehabilitated after the 20th Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1956, where Khrushchev publicly debunked the cult of Stalin and lifted the veil of secrecy from what had happened in the USSR during Stalin’s leadership. It was only after the official rehabilitation that people learnt for the first time what had happened to their relatives as information on arrested people had not been disclosed before.

9 Voroshylov, Kliment Yefremovich (1881-1969)

Soviet military leader and public official. He was an active revolutionary before the Revolution of 1917 and an outstanding Red Army commander in the Russian Civil War. As commissar for military and naval affairs, later defense, Voroshilov helped reorganize the Red Army. He was a member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party from 1926 and a member of the Supreme Soviet from 1937. He was dropped from the Central Committee in 1961 but reelected to it in 1966.

10 Trotsky, Lev Davidovich (born Bronshtein) (1879-1940)

Russian revolutionary, one of the leaders of the October Revolution of 1917, an outstanding figure of the communist movement and a theorist of Marxism. Trotsky participated in the social-democratic movement from 1894 and supported the idea of the unification of Bolsheviks and Mensheviks from 1906. In 1905 he developed the idea of the ‘permanent revolution’. He was one of the leaders of the October Revolution and a founder of the Red Army. He widely applied repressive measures to support the discipline and ‘bring everything into revolutionary order’ at the front and the home front. The intense struggle with Stalin for the leadership ended with Trotsky's defeat. In 1924 his views were declared petty-bourgeois deviation. In 1927 he was expelled from the Communist Party, and exiled to Kazakhstan, and in 1929 abroad. He lived in Turkey, Norway and then Mexico. He excoriated Stalin's regime as a bureaucratic degeneration of the proletarian power. He was murdered in Mexico by an agent of Soviet special services on Stalin’s order.

11 Gulag

The Soviet system of forced labor camps in the remote regions of Siberia and the Far North, which was first established in 1919. However, it was not until the early 1930s that there was a significant number of inmates in the camps. By 1934 the Gulag, or the Main Directorate for Corrective Labor Camps, then under the Cheka's successor organization the NKVD, had several million inmates. The prisoners included murderers, thieves, and other common criminals, along with political and religious dissenters. The Gulag camps made significant contributions to the Soviet economy during the rule of Stalin. Conditions in the camps were extremely harsh. After Stalin died in 1953, the population of the camps was reduced significantly, and conditions for the inmates improved somewhat.

12 Political officer

These "commissars," as they were first called, exercised specific official and unofficial control functions over their military command counterparts. The political officers also served to further Party interests with the masses of drafted soldiery of the USSR by indoctrination in Marxist-Leninism. The ‘zampolit’, or political officers, appeared at the regimental level in the army, as well as in the navy and air force, and at higher and lower levels, they had similar duties and functions. The chast (regiment) of the Soviet Army numbered 2000-3000 personnel, and was the lowest level of military command that doctrinally combined all arms (infantry, armor, artillery, and supporting services) and was capable of independent military missions. The regiment was commanded by a colonel, or lieutenant colonel, with a lieutenant or major as his zampolit, officially titled "deputy commander for political affairs."

13 Ispolkom

After the tsar’s abdication (March, 1917), power passed to a Provisional Government appointed by a temporary committee of the Duma, which proposed to share power to some extent with councils of workers and soldiers known as ‘soviets’. Following a brief and chaotic period of fairly democratic procedures, a mixed body of socialist intellectuals known as the Ispolkom secured the right to ‘represent’ the soviets. The democratic credentials of the soviets were highly imperfect to begin with: peasants - the overwhelming majority of the Russian population - had virtually no say, and soldiers were grossly over-represented. The Ispolkom’s assumption of power turned this highly imperfect democracy into an intellectuals’ oligarchy.

14 All-Union pioneer organization

a communist organization for teenagers between 10 and 15 years old (cf: boy-/ girlscouts in the US). The organization aimed at educating the young generation in accordance with the communist ideals, preparing pioneers to become members of the Komsomol and later the Communist Party. In the Soviet Union, all teenagers were pioneers.

15 Soviet-Finnish War (1939-40)

The Soviet Union attacked Finland on 30 November 1939 to seize the Karelian Isthmus. The Red Army was halted at the so-called Mannengeim line. The League of Nations expelled the USSR from its ranks. In February-March 1940 the Red Army broke through the Mannengeim line and reached Vyborg. In March 1940 a peace treaty was signed in Moscow, by which the Karelian Isthmus, and some other areas, became part of the Soviet Union.

16 Blockade of Leningrad

On September 8, 1941 the Germans fully encircled Leningrad and its siege began. It lasted until January 27, 1944. The blockade meant incredible hardships and privations for the population of the town. Hundreds of thousands died from hunger, cold and diseases during the almost 900 days of the blockade.

17 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

18 Estonia in 1939-1940

on September 24, 1939, Moscow demanded that Estonia make available military bases for the Red Army units. On June 16, Moscow issued an ultimatum insisting on the change of government and the right of occupation of Estonia. On June 17, Estonia accepted the provisions and ceased to exist de facto, becoming Estonian Soviet Republic within USSR.

19 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.

20 War with Japan

In 1945 the war in Europe was over, but in the Far East Japan was still fighting against the anti-fascist coalition countries and China. The USSR declared war on Japan on 8 August 1945 and Japan signed the act of capitulation in September 1945.

21 Fighting battalion

People’s volunteer corps during World War II; its soldiers patrolled towns, dug trenches and kept an eye on buildings during night bombing raids. Students often volunteered for these fighting battalions.

22 Road of Life

It was a passage across Lake Ladoga in winter during the Blockade of Leningrad. It was due to the Road of Life that Leningrad survived in the terrible winter of 1941-42.

23 Official invitation for residence in Leningrad

after the lift of the siege in Leningrad in January 1944, the city authorities established temporary restrictions on the evacuated citizens' return home. These restrictions were caused by considerable destruction of available housing and municipal services and acute shortage of housing. For entry in  Leningrad, it was necessary to have an official invitation of a ministry, plant, establishment, or a member of the family residing in the city. Such an invitation was called 'a call-in'.

24 Residence permit

The Soviet authorities restricted freedom of travel within the USSR through the residence permit and kept everybody’s whereabouts under control. Every individual in the USSR needed residential registration; this was a stamp in the passport giving the permanent address of the individual. It was impossible to find a job, or even to travel within the country, without such a stamp. In order to register at somebody else’s apartment one had to be a close relative and if each resident of the apartment had at least 8 square meters to themselves.

25 Item 5

This was the nationality factor, which was included on all job application forms, Jews, who were considered a separate nationality in the Soviet Union, were not favored in this respect from the end of World War WII until the late 1980s.

26 Mandatory job assignment in the USSR

Graduates of higher educational institutions had to complete a mandatory 2-year job assignment issued by the institution from which they graduated. After finishing this assignment young people were allowed to get employment at their discretion in any town or organization.

27 Birobidzhan

Formed in 1928 to give Soviet Jews a home territory and to increase settlement along the vulnerable borders of the Soviet Far East, the area was raised to the status of an autonomous region in 1934. Influenced by an effective propaganda campaign, and starvation in the east, 41,000 Soviet Jews relocated to the area between the late 1920s and early 1930s. But, by 1938 28,000 of them had fled the regions harsh conditions, There were Jewish schools and synagogues up until the 1940s, when there was a resurgence of religious repression after World War II. The Soviet government wanted the forced deportation of all Jews to Birobidzhan to be completed by the middle of the 1950s. But in 1953 Stalin died and the deportation was cancelled. Despite some remaining Yiddish influences - including a Yiddish newspaper - Jewish cultural activity in the region has declined enormously since Stalin's anti-cosmopolitanism campaigns and since the liberalization of Jewish emigration in the 1970s. Jews now make up less than 2% of the region's population.

28 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

29 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.
 

Judita Haikis

Judita Haikis
Interviewer: Ella Levitskaya
Date of interview: May 2004

Judita Haikis is a big woman with wise, understanding, a little said, but still smiling eyes. Judita is a wonderful and very hospitable lady. Though few weeks from now Judit is leaving for Germany to her grandchildren and is very busy in this regard, she keeps her two-bedroom apartment in a rather new building on the outskirts of Kiev clean and cozy and one can tell that its owner has made a great effort to make it comfortable through years.  She has 1960s-style furniture, carefully maintained, pictures on the walls and flowers in vases. Judita welcomes me as if I were some she knows well and tells me about herself and her family in detail, though I can tell that any of her memories are hard for her.

My family backgrownd

Growing up

During the war

After the war

Glossary

My family backgrownd

As for the beginnings of our family, I remember (from what my father told me) as far back as my paternal great grandfather Leopold Herman Edelmann. I need to emphasize here that all Edelmann folks have always tried to correspond to their surname that means a “noble man” in German.  I mean, they were honest, decent, men of principle, - noble men, in short.

My great grandfather Leopold Herman Edelmann and my great grandmother Terez Edelmann, nee Peterfreind, lived in the small Slovak settlement of Hrachovo. [Editor’s note: During most of the life of the great grandparents todays Hrachovo, Rimaraho at the time was in Northern Hungary. Today the village is in Slovakia.] They were farmers with an average income.  They had 12 children: six sons and six daughters. I knew few of them and know what my father told about the others. I don’t know the years of birth of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters.  My great grandfather’s older children were his sons Max and Moric, born one after another. The next was my grandfather’s sister Pepka. My grandfather Adolf, born in 1868, was the fourth child in the family. Then cane my grandfather’s sister Regina, and the next were his sisters Betka and Relka. Then my grandfather’s brothers Sandor, Pal and Jozsef were born. The youngest were sisters Anna and Etelka. I know nothing about my grandfather’s childhood. My father told me about him that he was the smartest and the most talented of 12 children. He learned to read and showed interest in all kinds of studies. My grandfather didn’t have a higher education, but he read a lot and always wanted to learn more. He studied Talmud and Jewish history. He didn’t do anything else, but study. My great grandfather’s family spoke German. Yiddish was not spread in this part of Slovakia. Leopold Herman and Terez wanted their sons to get a profession or education and their daughters to marry decently. I don’t know how religious my great grandfather and my great grandmother were, but judging from my grandfather, religion played an important role in their family. When they grew up, the children moved to other towns across Slovakia. [Editor’s note: Slovakia became independent as late as 1991, Czechoslovakia was created after the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy in 1918. The interviewee probably means the towns that became parts of Czechoslovakia later, after WWI and finally Slovakia in 1991.]

My great grandfather’s oldest sons Max and Moric Edelmann went to study in America in their teens at the age of 14 and 15 and stayed to live there. From what I know, my grandfather sent them to study in the USA after they finished the cheder. I don’t know for sure what Max and Moric studied in the USA, but I think they studied in secular educational institutions, rather than in a yeshiva. Max was married, but I don’t remember his wife’s name. They had no children. Moric married Anna, who had moved from Czechoslovakia, at the age of 20.  They had three sons: Harry, Richard and Alfred. In 1933 Max and Moric came to visit their relatives. This is all I know about them. Most of the children settled down in Kosice in Czechoslovakia. Kosice had more Hungarian residents, and the majority of its population spoke Hungarian. My grandfather’s older sister Pepka was married to Singer, a Jewish man. I don’t know his surname. They had four children: daughters Aranka and Regina and sons Nandor and Jeno. Pepka and her husband died at an early age, and my grandfather took their children into his family. Relka, called Relli [editors’ note: The interviewee probably confused thease names since neither Relka nor Relli are possible names in Hungarian.] in the family, was married to Bergman. During WWI Bergman perished at the front. His widow was to raise their four children: Mór, Albert and Alexander and daughter Ilona. Relly was my grandfather’s favorite sister, and her nephews and nieces admired her beauty and intelligence. My grandfather took care of his sister and her children, and after his death his sins, including my father, supported their aunt and her children. Relly lived with her daughter Ilona, who dealt in embroidery making her living on it. Pal Edelmann owned an inn in the center of Kosice, There was a restaurant on the 21st floor of this inn. Pal wife’s name was Betti, nee Deutsch. They had two children: older son Emil and younger daughter Terez, born in 1918. During WWI Pal was severely wounded at the front. He died from in 1926 and was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Kosice. His wife remarried. Her second husband loved his adoptive children and treated them like his own. My great grandfather’s son Jozsef also settled down in Kosice. He owned a grocery store. His wife’s name was Terez, nee Goldberger. They had five children: daughters Kato [Katalin], Magda, Judit, Eva and son Laszlo. Jozsef was also at the front during WWI and suffered from a splinter in his leg for the rest of his life. My grandfather’s daughter Etelka married Jakab Blumenfeld, a Jewish man from Kosice. They had four children: daughters Edit, Izabella and Marta and son Erno. My grandfather’s brother Sandor dealt in wholesale business and owned a wholesale store. Sandor was rather wealthy. He had two sons: son Ondrej (called Erno in Hungarian in the family) and daughter Magda, born in 1915. My grandfather’s other sisters lived with their families in Presov. Regina married Berger, a Jewish man. They had two children: son Simon and daughter Terez. Betka was married to Moric Gerstl. They had three children: daughter Ilona and sons Herman and Armin. Anna was married to Moric Hertz. They had eleven children: sons Aladar, Tibor, Marcel, Earnest, Pal and Alexander and daughters Sarolta, Ilona, Terez, Edit and Ester. This is all I know about the life of our relatives from Presov at that period.

My grandfather’s brothers and sisters were very close and kept in touch. Their children always visited their grandmother and grandfather in Hrachovo in summer. My father told me that the children always played in a big garden and three times a day their grandmother came onto the porch of the house shouting: ‘Kinder, essen!’ [German: children, to eat], and this whole bunch of them came for a meal. My grandmother cut freshly baked bread in big slices spreading butter on them and poured milk in mugs. My father liked these memories. 

My grandfather Adolf Edelmann also moved to Kosice. He married Amalia Polster from Kosice. She was born in the early 1870s. My grandfather and grandmother rented a small two-bedroom apartment, and across the street from there my grandmother’s older sister Frieda lived.  Frieda was my grandmother’s only relative, whom I knew. My grandmother was short and plump, but Frieda was a tall slender woman with regular features. Frieda’s husband was rather rich. They had a house and gave their children good education.  Two of her sons were lawyers. I remember that we were invited to Frieda and her husband’s golden wedding in the late 1930s. Regretfully, this is all I remember about my grandmother sister’s family. My grandfather was a wise, kind, very honest and decent man, and many Jews asked his advice. Kosice residents believed my grandfather to be wiser and smarter than any rabbi. He tried to help all giving money or advice. My grandmother Amalia was a breadwinner in the family. She owned a small grocery store. Grandfather spent all his time reading books. He didn’t help her in anything. My grandmother gave birth to 9 children, but only 7 of them survived.  Two children died in infancy. I only know the dates of birth of my father David Edelmann and his brother Mor. My father was born in 1905 and was the fourth child in the family. My father’s older brothers were Izidor, Elemer and Jeno.  My father’s brother Mor was born in 1906. Then my father’s only sister Etelka was born and the youngest brother was Armin. They must have had Jewish names, but I don’t know them. Besides their own children, my grandfather and grandmother also raised my grandfather sister Pepka’s children, who called my grandmother “Mama”.

Between 1867 - 1918 Czechoslovakia belonged to Austro-Hungary. [Editor’s note: Czechoslovakia was created on the ruins of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy after World War I. The new Czechoslovak state was made up of the Austrian provinces of Bohemia, Moravia and Silezia as well as of parts of Northern Hungary (Slovakia and Subcarpathia).] It was divided into two parts: the Czech lands that belonged to Austria, and Slovakia that was Hungarian. This probably explains why Kosice was populated mainly by Hungarians. In 1918 the First Czechoslovakian Republic 1 was established, with Tomas Garrigue Masaryk 2 the first President of Czechoslovakia. Kosice was a small town. [Before World War I it had 44 211 inhabitants (1913), mostly Hungarians but also Slovaks, Germans, Poles, Czechs and Ruthenians.] There were bigger houses in the center and one-storied houses on the outskirts.  There was no anti-Semitism in Kosice during the Austro-Hungarian period. Jews were encouraged to take official posts. There were many Jews in Kosice. They were mainly craftsmen: some could hardly make ends meet and others owned shops and stores. There were Jewish doctors, teachers and lawyers. There were few synagogues in Kosice: for orthodox believers, neologs 4 and Hasidim 5. There were mikves and shochets and few cheder schools in the town.

My father’s parents spoke Hungarian. My grandfather and grandmother were very religious. I never saw my grandfather and cannot describe his looks or manners. My grandfather spent almost all of his time reading religious books. My grandmother wore a wig and long dark dresses. She prayed a lot at home. She took her book of prayers and when she was praying she paid no attention to anything else. My grandmother made charity contributions to the synagogue and Jewish hospital and to help the needy. My grandparents celebrated Sabbath and all Jewish holidays. On Friday my grandmother went to mikveh. On Sabbath and Jewish holidays my grandparents went to the synagogue. My father and his brothers studied in cheder. Of course, they had bar mitzvah as Jewish traditions required. As for my father’s younger sister Etelka, I think her parents may have taught her at home. She knew Hebrew, could pray and knew Jewish history and traditions. My grandmother followed kashrut strictly and taught Etelka to know it. There was a Jewish housemaid in the house.  My grandmother was not very fond of doing work about the house and in due time Etelka took over housekeeping. My father and I think all other children studied in a Czech school and later - in a grammar school. 

My grandmother was hoping that her sons would grow up religious Jews, but her expectations were not to come true. They got fond of communist ideas. Only three of them – the oldest Izidor, Jeno  and the youngest Armin, who was single and lived with his parents, were religious. My father and his brothers became atheists.

Grandfather Adolf died of his heart failure at the age of 52. This happened in 1920. My father was 15. My grandfather was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Kosice in accordance with the Jewish rituals. When I visit Kosice, I always visit my grandfather’s grave and drop a little stone there according to Jewish rules. 

My grandmother’s older son Jeno helped my grandmother with her store. My father also began to help his mother, when his father died. My grandmother bought green coffee beans, and my father was responsible for roasting it. There was a notable difference in price of green and roast coffee. My father started roasting after he came home from school and kept reading doing his work. Reading was his lifelong passion. He also had to watch the beans to not overdo them. After my grandfather died my father had to give up school and help the family. Still, my father studied by correspondence and obtained a certificate upon finishing the grammar school. My father was very handsome: tall and slender with big dark eyes and handsome features. He was also a decent, honest and noble man of principles. He hated lies. He felt very uncomfortable having to conceal from grandmother that he didn’t always go to the synagogue or follow Jewish traditions. At the age of 18 my father went to work for a confectionery company owned by two Jews. The owners valued my father well and employed him back after his service in the army.  He got promotions and was paid well.

My father’s brothers got married and had children. Izidor, a sales agent, married Gizi Katz, a Jewish girl from Vinogradovo. His wife was a seamstress. They had three children. Their daughters Lilia and Judita were older than me and their son Adolf, named after the grandfather, born in 1930, was the same age with me. My father’s brother Elemer married Terez, a Jewish girl from Kosice. I don’t remember what Elemer was doing for a living. Elemer and Terez had two children: Tomas, an older son, and daughter Julia. After my grandfather died, my grandmother left the store to Jeno. His wife’s name was Adel, but I don’t remember her maiden name. They had three children: sons Ervin and Karl and daughters Lilia and Stella. My father and his brother Mor had much in common. They were both very handsome. Uncle Mor was very cheerful, smart and kind. He owned a small store in the center of the town selling imported fruit, sweets and delicacies. He always treated his nieces and nephews to all kinds of delicious things. Mor married aunt Gizi’s sister Eva Kaz from Vinogradovo. They had two daughters: Vera and Livia. My father’s sister Etelka didn’t get married for a long time. Finally Armin Rosner, a Jew from Uzhgorod, proposed to her. She married him and moved to Uzhgorod. After getting married she became a housewife, like her brother’s wives.  Etelka had two daughters: Livia and Edit. My father’s younger brother Armin was single.

My father was recruited to the Czech army at 19. He served near Prague and had good memories about his service in the army. It was democratic and orderly. For example, officers and soldiers had same meals. Why I mention this, because I remember my father telling me how he was surprised, when he saw that in the Soviet army officers had different meals at a different place from soldiers. 

My father met my mother before he went to the army. My father’s cousin sister Ilona, Relly’s daughter, was my mother’s best friend. She introduced them to one another. . My mother was 15. She was a pretty blonde with wavy hair, gray-greenish eyes, snow-white teeth and was lovely built. Her name was Szerena Klein. Since her childhood everybody called her ‘Szöszi’ [blondy in Hungarian] My parents fell in love once and for all.

My mother’s parents came from Kosice; they were born in the early 1870s. They were a very beautiful couple. My grandfather Herman Klein was a raven-head ma with tick moustache and my grandmother was a slim blonde with green eyes. Her name was Berta Klein, nee Liebermann. They were very much in love. They had two daughters. My mother’s older sister Izabella, born in 1907, was very much like her father, and my mother Szerena, born in 1909, took after my grandmother. She was quiet and reserved.  

My mother’s parents were neologs. They went to the synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. My mother’s father Herman Klein worked in a state-owned printing house. He went to work on Saturday and had a day off on Sunday. My grandmother was a housewife. My grandfather and grandmother wore casual clothes in fashion at the time. They didn’t follow kashrut or paid much attention to their daughters’ religious education. They were a common family, living in a small apartment. There wasn’t even a bathroom. Both daughters finished a Czech general school.  Izabella graduated from the Department of Economics of the University and became an accountant. As for my mother, her parents sent her to study dressmaking. She learned to make garments, but she was too vivid to like this job.

My father began to write before he went to the army. At first he wrote poems inspired by his love of my mother. I read these poems, when I was a child, and admired their lyrical nature and beauty. The first letters in lines composed my mother’s name or deklaration of his love of her. My father wrote my mother poems of letters from the army. Regretfully, they got lost during the war. My father became chief editor of the communist weekly ‘Mai Nap’ (‘Today’) published in Hungarian where his writer’s talent was fully realized. My father had to work a lot to support the family. Besides, the newspaper was also funded by its employees. My father continued writing after the war. My brother Adolf keeps his stories and memoirs written in Hungarian in his archives. 

My mother received the first awards at beauty contests in her town several times. She had many admirers, but my father became number one. My parents got married on 14 July 1929. He was 24 and my mother was 20 years old. They had a real Jewish wedding with a rabbi and a chuppah.  My father was working for the company. He rented a two-room apartment and furnished it.  My mother told me that her grandmother Amalia came to their apartment on the first day after the wedding and fixed a mezuzah on the front door. Before the wedding her grandmother gave my mother a lovely wig of fair wavy hair, but my mother never wore it. Her mother Berta didn’t wear any, either. Grandmother Amalia never forgave my mother.  

Growing up

I was born on 3 June 1930. In my birth certificate my Hungarian name Judit was indicated, and my Jewish name is Sima. My parents called a ‘love child’. In April 1933 my sister was born. Father wanted to name her Katalin but I insisted on Klara, even though I was only 3 years old. I liked the name and they agreed to a compromise. My sister was named Klara in the documents, but nobody called her thus. Everybody called her Katalin, Kati in short. My sister’s Jewish name was Laya. Our apartment became too small for the four of us, and we moved into half a mansion. The tenants of another half were the Rothman family, nice and wealthy Jews. They had no children. We had a three-bedroom apartment, spacious and cozy, with all comforts. There was a small garden where my sister and I liked playing. We had a happy and cloudless childhood before 1940. Even with our father having to go on business frequently. He even bought a small sporty car. My father spent Saturday and Sunday with the family. My sister and I always looked forward to weekends. On Saturday morning we jumped into our parents’ bed. My mother went to make breakfast and our father told us everything that had happened to him through the week. He often told us about beautiful life in the Soviet Union. He told us there was no exploitation of workers in the USSR, that the power belonged to people and the people ruled their own country. My father said there were no poor or suppressed people in the USSR, that all people were equal and free. Soviet newspapers and radio programs stated the same. My father and all communists believed that the USSR was a country of equal opportunities for all people, the country of equality and brotherhood for all. Now I understand that even when people in the USSR believed this, it is no surprise that those who only heard about it from the Soviet propaganda believed the USSR to be an ideal. My father was a convinced communist, and it had nothing to do with his material situation.

Every Saturday my father and his brothers living in Kosice and their families went to visit grandmother. They got together after the morning prayer at the synagogue. Each time my father reminded me and my sister of replying positively if our grandmother asked us if he had been at the synagogue.  Our father taught us to tell the truth and my sister and I were surprised at this request of his, but my father said that this was a holy lie since grandmother would be very upset if told the truth. My grandmother’s numerous children and grandchildren got together in her small apartment.  There was a Saturday meal: challah, chicken liver paste and cholnt made from beans, pearl barley, meat, fat and spices. On Friday a pot with cholnt was left in the oven to keep it hot for a Saturday meal. Adults discussed their subjects and children played and had fun. Since the family was big, everybody got just little food, and then all went to their homes for dinner. On Sunday my father took us and his nephews and nieces for a nice drive out of town. The Edelmann family was very close and we, children, always looked forward to these outing. We still keep in touch with those who survived in the war, though many of our kin are scattered across the world.

My mother’s older sister Izabella was a very pretty girl. When she was in university, she fell in love with a senior student from the Radio Engineering Faculty. His name was Andras Tamm. He was tall and slender and very handsome. He returned my aunt’s feelings. The only obstacle was that he was Hungarian. Even though Izabella’s parents were not so religious this marriage still seemed a disgrace to them. They could only get married six years later in 1933. They could not live without one another and my grandparents gave up. They just registered their marriage in the town hall and had a wedding dinner in a restaurant in the evening. Andras rented a small facility in the central street in Kosice and open a radio store with a radio shop in it. Andras worked in the shop, and my aunt ran his store. Izabella and Andras were well-to-do and rented a nice apartment. In 1936 their son Gabor, my favorite cousin brother, was born.

My father and his brother Mor joined the Czechoslovakian communist party. They were convinced communists. The Czechoslovakian communist party was legal, though police had lists of its members, but this was a mere formality. My father began to work for ‘Mai Nap’. Besides, my father worked for ‘Munkas Ujsag’ [Workers Paper] too, both of them are published in Kosice. Before 1938 these newspapers were issued legally and regularly. In 1938 when [Southern] Slovakia became Hungarian, both ‘Mai Nap” and ‘Munkas Ujsag’ became underground newspapers, because the communist party became illegal in Hungary. In 1940 the newspapers were closed and most of their employees were arrested. My father made monthly contribution to the newspaper ‘Mai Nap”  from his earnings and so did other employees. The newspaper was distributed among communists for free and its editing office had no profits. 

1938 brought changes into our life. Hungary received a major part of Czechoslovakia, a part of Romania (Transylvania) and Subcarpathia. [Editor’s note: According to the First Vienna Decision the southern part of Slovakia was attached to Hungary in 1938, including Kosice/Kassa. In 1939 Hungary annexed Subcarpathia and in 1940, according to the Second Vienna Decision, Northern Transylvania was attached to Hungary.] Hungary actually [partly] restored its borders that existed before 1918. [Trianon Peace Treaty] 6 From the middle 1930s there were visitors in our houses staying for few days.  They were emigrants from Germany: communists and Jews escaping from Hitler. They stayed openly during the Czech regime, but had to be quiet during the Hungarian rule. The communist party had to take up the status of underground. Since the police had lists of its members, they knew that arrests were inevitable. It was just the matter of time. Hungarian authorities began to gradually introduce anti-Jewish laws 7 significantly suppressing their rights in all spheres of life.

During the war

In September 1939 WW2 began. Hitler was taking efforts to involve Hungary in the war, but it had no intention to get involved. Then Hitler undertook provocation: in June 1940 bombers without any identification signs dropped few bombs onto the central part of Kosice. The central post office and few building across the street from it were destroyed. This bombing was so unexpected that an air-raid alarm only raised a howl after the bombers were gone. They announced that those were Russian bombers attacking Kosice. The Hungarian authorities had to join Hitler in the war against the USSR. Few weeks later my father and all other members of the communist party, who were on the lists, were arrested and take to prison in Kosice. The trial against them began. They were charged in actions against the state. They were tortured and interrogated. The Hungarians wanted to know the names of those who joined the communist party during the Hungarian rule and whose names were not on the list. My mother was one of them. She joined the party under my father’s influence in late 1938. My father was brutally beaten and taken to Budapest for interrogation where one policeman injured my father’s kidney. My father suffered from pyelonephritis for the rest of his life and finally died of kidney failure. Of course, my father didn’t tell them any names. The investigation lasted five and a half months and then there was a trial where my father spoke.  He acknowledged his membership in the party. The trial sentenced him to 7 months in jail, but since by the time of trial he had already served the sentence, he only had to stay in jail 40 days.  During this period my grandfather Herman Klein fell ill with cancer and died. My mother requested the police management to let my father go to the funeral, but they refused. My grandfather Herman was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Kosice. After his death my grandmother Berta began to attend the synagogue every Saturday with other Orthodox Jews and began to pray at home. She moved in with us. Her older daughter Izabella wanted her to live with them, but grandmother Berta refused point-blank to live in the house with Izabella’s non-Jewish husband.  My grandmother loved my father dearly.

Before my father’s arrest many of his comrades moved to the USSR. The Soviet government gave them this opportunity. At first they could move with their families, but when it was my father’s turn, this opportunity was closed. Communists and their families were leaving Hungary illegally, by forged documents. My father refused to go without us. Perhaps, it was for the better since many of those who went to the USSR were sent to the GULAG 8 where most of them perished.

I remember the day, when my father’s sentence was over. There was a crowd of those who sympathized with him meeting him at the gate, though this was early morning. They carried him along the street. My mother and sister also came to meet him, but we could hardly fight through the crowd to come closer. Those people followed us as far as our house. We were infinitely happy to reunite. Papa told us a lot about his imprisonment, but avoided the subject of tortures to save us from pain for him. My mother told me about it, when I grew up. She said father was continuously beat during interrogations till he fainted. They beat him on his head and vitally important parts of body where it was the most painful. They threatened him of arresting and torturing his family, if he didn’t answer their questions and this was the harder for him than not answering their questions. 

I was always a quiet and obedient child while my sister was very lively and my parents used to say she was supposed to have been born a boy.  Mama and grandma often slapped her, but my father after what he had to go through at interrogations gave a vow that he would never raise his hand to hit one person and he never did.  When my sister did something wrong, he made her sit beside him and said: ‘You deserve a good flogging, so imagine you’ve had one from me’. My sister used to sob a while after this. My father had to make his appearance in the police office three times a week for them to make sure that he had not escaped. In 1939 my father got a job in a company in Budapest. I don’t know what kind of company this was or what he was doing at work. Before his arrest he worked in Budapest on weekdays and returned home on weekends, but afterward he was to come to the police office on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. My father kept his job in Budapest, but he could not stay there a whole week and returned home on Friday. Of course, my sister and I were very happy about it.

Since 1939 grandma Amalia began to spend less time in Kosice. My father insisted that grandma lived with us, but my grandmother had solid principles. When she visited us, she never had anything to eat or even a cup of tea or coffee. Grandma knew that my mother did not follow kashrut and for this reason she did not eat anything. She spent more and more time with her daughter Etelka in Uzhgorod. Etelka and her husband were very religious and followed kashrut and Jewish traditions. My grandmother prayed few times a day. Religion was the most important part of her life. I still remember something that struck me once. When my father was released from prison, my grandmother was in Uzhgorod. 2-3 days after he returned home my father said he hadn’t seen his mother for a long time and would go to visit her. He rushed in his car to Uzhgorod.  Then my father told my mother that when he came there he rushed into the room where my grandmother was praying, but she put her finger to her lips showing him to stop distracting her. And she only came to hug her son whom she hadn’t seen for over 7 months after she finished praying. My father was so hurt that he had tears in his eyes. In 1941my grandmother went to live with her daughter in Uzhgorod. Her son Armin to avoid service in the army, or it would be more correct to say – work battalion since Jews were not taken to regular army troops, also lived with grandmother in Uzhgorod since 1943. Jews, gypsy and communists were recruited to work battalions. They did not have weapons or wear military uniforms. They wore their own clothes and had yellow armbands. Work battalions were digging trenches for the frontlines troops. They were actually easy targets at the front line. However, the Soviets somehow got to know who they were and did not fire at them. [Editor’s note: Most of the time the Soviets did not distinguished between regular Hungarian soldiers and members of the work battalion. Oftentimes they were treated as Hungarian POWs when falling captive.]

When the war with the Soviet Union began 9, my father was arrested again in July 1941 and taken to the Hungarian prison in the mountains near Garany town, in the former mansion of an Austrian lord. This area belonged to Slovakia before 1938. When Hungarians came to power, the owner of this mansion moved to Austria and his castle was converted into a prison. All prisoners were kept for political charges. My father became the leader of all prisoners. He prisoners had to cook and do all maintenance duties in the jail.  My father organized courses and hobby clubs for prisoners.  My father generated lists of attendants and also, made cleaning and cooking plans.  He learned to cook in this camp. There was also a good library in the mansion and prisoners could use it. Relatives were allowed to visit twice a month. Two relatives could visit 2-3 days. My mother went there to visit my father and took either my sister or me with her. We rented a room from local farmers. My father made arrangements with the management of the camp for prisoners to be allowed to take some time off the camp to meet with their relatives. There were strict rules about the exact time for all of them to return to the camp. My father asked my mother to bring grandmother Amalia to see him, but my grandmother never came to see him. For her it was out of the question to stay in a goy’s house and eat non-kosher food. My father was kept in the Garany prison for a year. In late 1942 it was closed and Jews were taken to work battalions while Jewish communists were sent to penal battalions to go to the frontline. They were to wear yellow armbands with a 10 cm in diameter black circle on it. The work battalion where my father was taken was following the frontline with Hungarian and German troops in the eastern direction. After defeat of Germans near Stalingrad they turned to go in the opposite direction, from east to west. My father kept thinking about how to cross the frontline and surrender to the Red Army. He organized a group of 50 people and managed to accomplish their well-considered plan near Zhytomyr. It’s scaring to think what might have happened to them since the USSR did not trust deserters believing they were spies, but my father and his comrades were lucky. There was a Jewish communist, who lived in Hungary and emigrated to the USSR in the end of 1930th in the Red Army troop where they happened to get. He knew about my father’s underground work in the communist organization in Kosice. He guaranteed for my father’s trustworthiness.  This group formed a group of prisoners-of-war following the Red Army troops liberating Ukraine.  My father proved to be good at having a brigade under his command.  The brigade consisted of Hungarians and Hungarian Jews. One of the commanders of a military division where they happened to come knew my father, and also considering that my father was a communist, this man appointed my father to command over this unit of the newcomers. This man also helped my father to improve his Russian, but at the very start this man translated my father’s commanders’ orders from Russian into Hungarian for my father to understand and follow them. My father was promoted to the rank of an officer and moved with the troops as far as the Carpathians. When they were near Uzhgorod, the military were inoculated and they must have injected some infection in my father. He fell gravely ill. He developed abscess. My father was taken to a hospital in Uzhgorod. My father’s comrades were working in the communist department in Uzhgorod and my father began to assist them even when he was in hospital. At their request my father was demobilized to establish the soviet power in Subcarpathia. He became 2nd secretary of the town party committee in 1945. We reunited with my father after the war.

One of anti-Jewish laws did not allow Jews to own stores, factories or anything that generated profit.  They were supposed to give away their property or the state confiscated it. Many Jews fictitiously sold their property to non-Jewish owners, but actually things did not change. Or they entered into agreement of common ownership and became ‘partners’. By late 1944 many Hungarians took advantage of such agreements and took over the new property. There were also honest Hungarians, who returned Jews their property after the war. My father’s brothers lost their property. My father’s brother Jeno was working for the new owner of his former store. My father’s brother Mor, when suppression of Jews began in Hungary, sold his store and moved to Presov in Slovakia where our relatives lived. One of my grandfather sister Relka’s sons Albert was a talented artist. In the late 1930s he moved to USA with his family. Relka’s other son Alexander was a communist. In 1939 he was recruited to the Hungarian army, but escaped to the USSR.  Unfortunately, he became victim like many other young people who believed the USSR to be their ideal. He was sent to the GULAG where he perished. After the war his fiancé Bozena searched for him. She found our family and my father began to look for Alexander. Of course, it was dangerous to search for a turncoat that was surely believed to have been a spy, but these considerations did not stop my father. He kept writing letters and requests, but never got a clear answer from them. Official authorities notified my father that Alexander Bergman was not on the lists of prisoners in the camps. So, we never got any information about him.

In 1936 I went to the first form of a Czech primary school. During Hungarian rule this school became a Hungarian one and I studied 2 of 4 years in the Hungarian school. I had all excellent marks at school and was allowed to go to a grammar school after the 4th form. For the rest of pupils could go to grammar school after the 5th form. I finished primary school in 1940. My father was in prison at that time. My mother sister’s husband Andras took me for an interview to the Hungarian grammar school for girls. There were restrictions already: only 2 Jewish girls were allowed for a class. My interview was successful and I was admitted to the first form. Few teachers were members of the Hungarian fascist party. They got to know that my father was a communist and was in prison. They kept finding faults with me and it caused me much distress. However, I did well at school. We had exams in summer. I remember the one in geography in early June 1941. There was an examination panel and its chairman was a teacher of mathematic, the most ardent fascist at school. As soon as I started answering she interrupted me with the question: ‘Tell me where do our and the heroic German troops fight at the front’. I knew how fast Germans were moving in the direction of Moscow and this was bitter for those who sympathized with the USSR. I pretended to be naïve and said that I didn’t know and could not be interested. The teacher shamed me for not knowing about the glorious victories of our and the German troops. My class tutor, a German teacher, who liked me came to my rescue. She asked me to goon answering my examination question. I sighed with relief, but I could never forget about this exam.  I also remember how unfair this teacher of mathematic was to me. Though I knew mathematics the best she never gave me an ‘excellent’ mark. I had the only ‘good’ mark in her subject. I remember dreaming about how I would take my revenge when the war was over. We were all sure that the USSR would win. There was one more Jewish girl in my class. We faced no anti-Semitism. My life would have been cloudless in the grammar school if it hadn’t been for me being the daughter of a communist.

After my father was arrested again, there were four of us living together: my mother, my sister, grandmother Berta and I. My mother never went to work. My father’s earnings were sufficient, though he gave away a significant portion of it for the party needs: for the newspaper, assistance to unemployed members of the party, immigrants, etc. I don’t know how we managed through four years that my father was away. I only remember that the owner of my father’s company in Budapest paid my father’s salary to uncle Izidor, who probably did my father’s job. He brought my mother this money. We had everything we needed. My mother regularly sent food parcels to my father every week.

In February-March 1943 Slovakian fascists began to persecute Jews. My father’s brother Mor decided to leave Presov for Kosice. Many Jewish families were leaving Slovakia for Hungary. Somebody reported to the police that Mor was coming back. They told Izidor, the oldest of the brothers, that if one member of the Edelmann family crossed the border, they would arrest the whole family in Kosice. Mor only got to know this after he moved to Kosice with his wife and two daughters and they settled down at my grandmother’s. Mor went to the police office the following day and told them he came on his own will and asked them to leave his family alone. They never let him go from there. On the same day they arrested his wife and children. They were taken out of town and killed.

The situation with Jews in Kosice grew worse in the middle of 1943, when Germans were losing their positions in Stalingrad. Hungarian introduced many restrictions for Jews. [Editor’s note: Mass persecutions started as late as after March 19th 1944, when Germany invaded Hungary.] Since 1944 all Jews had to wear 10-cm hexagonal yellow star on their chests. I went to school with this star, though it didn’t last long. The academic year was reduced due to the wartime. In the middle of April the school closed for vacations. Jews were not allowed to come to public places or leave their homes after dusk.

In April [19th] 1944 10 German troops occupied Hungary, though Hungarian fascists started outraging even before. I shall never forget the first evening on Pesach 1944. There was a synagogue across the street from our house where Jews got together for a prayer. All of a sudden we heard screams from the synagogue, curses and anti-Semitic shouts. This was a pogrom in the synagogue made by Hungarian fascists. During the war there were back-outs on the windows in all houses. My mother lost her temper, turned off the lights, open the window and began to shame the young people telling them to stop this disgrace. She didn’t look like a Jewish woman and they were just laughing in her face, but did her no harm. My sister, grandmother and I sat in the corner of our children’s room trembling of fear. The rascals pulled some older Jews by their payes and went away. In the morning we saw that all windows in the synagogue were broken and heard the rabbi’s wife and children crying. Then German officers and soldiers came to Kosice. They ordered wealthy Jews to come to the central square and told them to give their money and valuables to the German army voluntarily, and if they did not obey they would force them to do so and arrest them. Later Germans gathered Jews in the ghetto at the brick factory in Kosice. So the old couples, the owners of our house were arrested. There were air raids. Or house was near the railway station that was bombed most frequently. Germans also began to arrest communists and their families. We were scared. My mother was told that we had to stay elsewhere, but not at home. We separated: grandmother Berta and I stayed with my grandfather’s sister Relka, and as for my mother and sister, only Liza, my father’s cousin brother Nandor’s wife, knew. Nandor died after an unsuccessful surgery in 1942. Liza and her two sons lived on the 3rd floor in the house in the end of our street.  Liza was watching our house, when we were not at home and in case of danger was to notify us to stay away from coming home.

On 16 April 1944, on Friday, my grandmother decided to go home to clean the apartment before my mother and sister came home. We always cleaned the house on Friday. I stayed with aunt Relka. At that moment aunt Liza saw a car stop by our house. Few German officers went into the house.  Liza went to tell my mother about what was going on. My grandmother came into the house. The Germans were searching the house. They showed grandma my parents’ photograph called them ‘Kommunisten’, and asked where my mother was. My grandmother got very scared. Since she didn’t know where my mother was they let her go and she returned to aunt Relka’s home. A photographer, my father’s acquaintance, gave us shelter in his laboratory. We didn’t have any clothes. Liza found out that Germans left the house before night. My mother’s sister Izabella was in her 7th month of pregnancy. She took two big bags and went to our house. She grabbed few photographs, some clothes and left the house.

At that time my father’s cousin Ondrej Edelmann, whom everybody called Erno [Ondrej is the Czech name, this is how he was registered in his documents, Erno is the Hungarian name, the language they used in the family.], grandpa’s brother Sandor’s brother, came from Czechoslovakia. He was a last-year student of the Medical College in Prague. He had secretly crossed the border. Erno lived through a tragedy. He had a fiancé, a daughter of poor Jews, who already worked as a teacher at the age of 19.  They were going to get married after Erno finished his college, but this was not to be. In 1941 Hitler ordered to take all Jewish girls to work in Germany.  Young girls were getting married in emergency to avoid this disaster. Erno and Anna also got married, but the order for Anna to go to Germany was signed before they registered their marriage. Anna was sent to Germany. Poor Erno almost lost his mind, when this happened. He wrote Hitler asking to send back his young wife, but surely he got no reply. Later he got to know that Anna was pregnant. She died at birth and so did the baby. When Erno got to know that all Jews were to be taken to concentration camps from Hungary, he decided to spend his money to save his relatives taking them to Czechoslovakia. [Czechoslovakia was dismembered in 1938. The interviewee is here refereeing to Slovakia.] It was decided that Erno and I would be the first to go to Slovakia. We had to decide about grandmother Berta. We had to cover 20 km in the mountains to get to Slovakia and my grandma could not do this with her unhealthy legs. My grandmother firmly said she was not going to hideaway and would be with other Jews. Very soon all Jews, and my grandmother too, were taken to the ghetto at the brick factory on the outskirts of Kosice. In late April they began to be taken to concentration camps where they were sorted out. The younger and stronger ones were taken to work. They lived in barracks with inhuman conditions. Old people and children were burnt in crematoria. My grandmothers and many relatives perished there. My mother, my sister and Erno on the evening of 22 April 1944 removed yellow stars from our clothing and went to a village near Kosice where a guide was waiting for us to take us across the border. This was the night of 22 April, full of danger. The first risk was when we went across the town. At first everything was all right, but then we saw my sister’s former teacher and his wife. He was wearing the uniform of a lieutenant of the Hungarian army. Of course, he recognized us. My mother was sure he would call the police, but there are decent people in this world. He greeted my mother politely, gave my sister and me a wink and moved on. When we came to the guide, Erno gave us some Slovakian money and went back to  Kosice to take another group next night. 

We stayed till dark in the guide’s house without turning on the lights. The guide, his two brothers and sister, who spoke fluent Slovakian, came at midnight. We went a long way across the woods in the mountains. 3 hours later we stopped in a nice valley.  The guide told us to stay there till morning, when we had to get to the railway station nearby. It was cold and the men made a fire. We had sandwiches. We tried to get a nap, but it was cold and we were worried, so we stayed wide awake.  At dawn we saw a nice river in the valley, and got to the station along the rail tracks. My mother gave our companions money to buy tickets. When we were alone, a tall man in the hunter’s outfit, with a rifle over his shoulder approached us. He said he knew my mother from Kosice and advised us to get in another carriage than our companions. He said they had typical Jewish appearance and this might attract the gendarmes’ attention, but speaking good Slovakian, they would manage while for us it might be worse since Slovakian gendarmes were capturing those who crossed the border illegally. We did as he told us. It happened to be true. Gendarmes approached our companions demanding their documents and left them alone afterward. We were close to Presov, when the tall hunter told us to get off the train and walk to the town since there were many gendarmes at the station. We agreed with our companions to meet near the railway station square. They were to take us to the house where my father’s cousin Terez, daughter of Anna Hertz, and her husband lived. They were aware that we were coming and were to give us forged documents.  Everything went all right. Our relatives welcomed us and we could take a rest. On the following day our documents were ready. According to the legend, my mother was a widow of landlord Vitalishov from near Presov, and we were going to the Tatra Mountains since I had tuberculosis and had to breathe fresh air in the mountains. My sister and I had chains with crosses on our necks to prove our Christian origin. A week later, on 1 May 1944, Erno joined us. We didn’t recognize him. He colored his hair to become fair and grew a beard and moustache. Erno told us he only managed to take one more group relatives across the border before Hungarian gendarmes started looking for him. Probably someone reported on him and why he was in the town. We took a train to a resort on a mountain in the Tatras. There were posh hotels for wealthiest people on the bank of a lake. At the bottom of the hill there was a small village where railroad people lived. There were also few inexpensive and cozy recreation centers. There was a cable way from the station to the lake. It didn’t function since there were no tourists. We chose this place to be our escape. Erno rented a room on the 2nd floor in one recreation center. Downstairs the manager, his wife and their four children lived.  In the morning and evening my mother boiled some milk in their kitchen and in the afternoon we had lunch at the restaurant on the station. They served good meals. My mother and I spoke German to the owner, and my sister, who didn’t know a word in German or Slovakian, was ordered to keep silent pretending she was mute and deaf. Before 1938, when Hungarians came to power in the country, my sister didn’t go to school, stayed at home and spent time with us and our parents friends’ children. We spoke Hungarian at home and so did our friends, and my sister could only speak even a few words in Slovakian. Once a gendarme from a nearby village visited the area. He came to see us. My mother explained to him in poor Slovakian that she was German, but her husband was Slovakian, that I was ill and she took my sister and me there to improve our health.   The gendarme was satisfied with this story. There were few other Jewish families staying in the village and we met them. They were from Slovakia and this was good. In case we had to escape they knew where we might go. Erno visited us twice bringing us some money. We played with the children of the manager and picked Slovakian rather fast. Every other day we went to take milk at a farm in 2 km from the recreation center. These were lovely strolls. Days, weeks and months went by... In July a group of Hitler jugend boys, 10 Germans, came to stay in the neighboring recreation center for recreation and military training. Hitlerjugend boys were sent to Slovakia where they could have military training and rest. They marched in the morning and in the evening singing fascists songs. They also shouted patriotic slogans and trained shooting on the training ground. They were not allowed to have any contacts with the locals, but we were still of them anyway. 

In early September we got to know that Germans started occupation of Slovakia. Our acquaintances decided to leave the place. We decided to join them. There were 3 other families, but only two men, with us. Hey found a place in the mountains and took a train carriage there. It arrived at the dead end where there was a small village. There was a windmill right by the station. We were starved and my mother went to the mill to buy a little flour. Our chains with crosses helped us there. The miller’s wife felt sorry for us. She gave us food and sold some flour and bread. She thought we were Catholics and said she hated Jews and would never help one.

We stayed in a poor house whose owner was at the front. His wife had few children and was pregnant.  They had a cow and the landlady gave us some milk every day. A short time later she started labor and my mother acted as a midwife. I remember how stunned my mother was that the woman got up on the same day to milk the cow and work in the garden. It was getting colder and we didn’t have warm clothes. My mother went to the village store to buy some clothes. She bought us nice gray and black boots and some clothes. The men from other Jewish families were thinking where we could escape, if Germans came to this distant village. They discovered a path that led them to two houses where foresters with their families lived. They told the men that there was a partisan unit nearby and that partisans would mobilize men to their unit. There was one Jewish families staying in one of these houses: a husband, a wife and two adult sons. The foresters promised to give us shelter for a certain fee. They mentioned that the men would still have to hide from partisans unless they wanted to join them. The men didn’t want this to happen. Nobody knew, which was worse: to be captured by Germans or partisans.

In early October we heard that Germans were coming to the village. We went to the foresters’ houses. My sister and I liked staying there. It was still warm and there were many berries and mushrooms, particularly blackberries. We picked them and ate as much as we could. Our mother cooked mushrooms. The men were hiding in a shed in the daytime. Our mother and we had nobody to fear. One forester had a radio and we listened to news.  When we heard that a part of Slovakia was liberated, we rushed to Brezno by train. From there we went to Banska Bystrica. The town celebrated liberation and there were crowds of people in the streets. We went to our relatives. Erno, his sister Magda and many relatives, whom Erno rescued, got together in his house. We met with Adolf, uncle Izodor’s son, my cousin. We, children went to see the Soviet movie ‘6 am after the war’. It was in Russian and there was no translation, but we understood what it was about. It was a very touching movie. Next day we heard that one of the communist leaders of liberation of Czechoslovakia came to Banska Bystrica. I don’t remember his name, but my mother knew him well. He used to work with my father and often visited us at home in Kosice. He told my mother that Germans were bellicose about coming back to Slovakia and that my mother had to take a train to the town where this officer’s unit was deployed. He wrote a letter for him to give us shelter in case Germans came back. He also comforted my mother by saying that the war was to be over soon and we would survive. I remember that we waited for my mother standing in an entrance of a building while she had this meeting. My mother came back in tears: we had to get wandering again.  Erno was thinking how to help the family. He divided all relatives in groups. All of us had to go to the mountains and stay in earth huts or with partisans till the end of the war.  Erno read the letter m mother had and approved it. He also gave us the address of one of former customers of his father. He lived in a village half way from the place we were heading to. We took a train and moved on. When we were in about 5 km from the place of departure we heard that there were Germans in the place we were heading to. We went to the man Erno told us to go to. When he heard who we were he offered his help. His son had contacts with partisans. He had just got married and was hiding with his wife in the woods. My mother and other women of this family were baking bread for the road all night through. Early in the morning our group – there were about 10 people – started on our way.  My mother was carrying a heavy bag with our food stocks and clothes. She had tears of exhaustion and despair in her eyes, but to comfort us she tried to smile to us. We made short stops to rest before we continued climbing higher in the mountains. In the evening we reached two earth huts that were carefully camouflaged for outsiders not to discover them. There were 10-12 tenants in each hut located at 100 m from one another. There was a plank bed about 1 m above the floor with straw on it that made our ‘bedroom’. There was a small stove with a smoke stack with its exhaust end outside. There was a toilet – a plank over a pit in the snow – between two pine trees near the hut. We also melted snow for water. We used a helmet as a wash basin. It was late October 1944, and we could never believe that we would have to stay there as long as March 1945, i.e., five months. 

There was Mark, a Czech man, his young Jewish wife Sonia, their 6-month old son and Sonia’s mother living with us in the hut. My mother happened to know Sonia’s mother. Her husband Grunwald, a communist often visited Kosice on party business during the rule of Czechoslovakia before 1938, and knew my mother and father. Before 1939 Grunwald left his wife and daughter, crossed the border to the USSR, was kept in a camp two years, and then was sent to Moscow to take the responsibility for a radio program in Slovakian. Then he was mobilized to the Red Army, became an officer and married a Russian doctor. After the war Grunwald and his wife came to his homeland looking for his first family. My mother felt sorry for Sonia’s mother. In 1941, when Jewish girls were forced to go to Germany, she arranged for her 15-year old daughter Sonia to marry a Czech engineer, who worked in a mine. He was about 15 years older than Sonia. At first there was no love between them, but when they got to know each other better living in one apartment, they consummated their marriage. They had a lovely boy, whom we all loved. Sonia didn’t have breast milk, and Mark and other men went to buy milk and other food products in the village twice a week. They froze milk for the baby in the snow. We cooked peas, beans and sometimes baked potatoes, if we managed to get some from farmers. There was Kellerman, a 19-year old guy with us in the hut. He had a long nose and black bulging eyes. He was always hungry like my sister, and mad at the rest of the world. I remember the day, when my mother had to cut my wonderful long hair since we could not keep them clean considering our living conditions.  In another hut there were Jews and the newly married couple of farmers, who had brought us there.  There was a house nearby. It was probably a former forester’s house, but now there were partisans accommodating in it. They never left it to fight against Germans. They enjoyed themselves eating and drinking, listening to the radio and waiting for the war to come to an end. They didn’t take one effort to expedite this end.  Our men found a shelter in a rock nearby in case Germans discovered us. We used it several times, when Hungarian soldiers came close to our huts. They spoke Hungarian and we understood them and could talk to them. By the end of 1944 mainly Hungarian troops, faithful allies of Hitler, fought in Slovakia. They were even more formidable than German fascists. [editor’s note: The Hungarian army did not enter the Slovak state in World War II. The soldiers were either not Hungarian or it took place in Hungarian territory, possibly in Southern Slovakia attached to Hungary as early as 1938.] We established security guards to watch the locality and inform us of danger, if there was any, but Hungarians never came up to the mountains this far.

One day in January we got terribly scared. When we went to bed, we heard shooting above us. We froze of fear, but then it turned out those were our neighbors shooting to salute the liberation of  Kosice. They knew we came from Kosice and wanted to greet us. We invited them to the hut, they brought some wine with them, and we celebrated this wonderful event with tears in our eyes. It was more and more difficult for our men to descend from the mountains looking for food. The Hungarian troops were in rage executing partisans and the locals, who, they suspected, had contacts thereof. By end of February we ran out of food stocks and had no food whatsoever for our baby boy, who was 10 months old. His father and grandmother had to take a desperate step. Madam Grunwald spoke fluent Hungarian. She wanted to ask Hungarian troopers to give some food for her grandson or allow her to take him down to the village. Her son-in-law accompanied her. Since he didn’t speak one word in Hungarian, he hid away to watch her. He saw her talking to a Hungarian officer, saw how soldiers tied her and took her to a house.  He kept watching the house at night. In the morning the unfortunate woman was taken to the center of the village, she had a plank with “This is what will happen to all those who help partisans!’ in Slovakian and Hungarian. There were signs of beating on her skin. The Hungarians made all residents of the village watch her execution. Her son-in-law watch it. She was on the gibbet for a whole week and nobody was allowed to take her down. Poor Mark returned to our hut half-dead. He had to tell Sonia everything. We bitterly mourned the poor grandma, who sacrificed her life to rescue her grandson. 

In early March we saw that the house where the partisans used to be was deserted. They left  without warning us or leaving any food or the radio. By that time there were three polish Jewish refugees with us. They said that this part of Slovakia was liberated by the Romanian troops that were on the side of the USSR. These Polish Jews decided to move towards their liberators and save their lives by crossing the front line. They were sorry for Mark’s family and agreed to take Mark and Sonia with them. Many years later we got to know that they had survived. Sonia met with her father, divorced Mark and left with her father and son.

We had to make a decision as well. We didn’t have any food and didn’t want to starve to death at the very end of the war. There was a group of 13 of us led by the young newly wed farmer, who had a compass and some food left. In early March 1945 we moved in the eastern direction across the mountains. We were hoping to cross the front line. We walked 6 days. There were two women with us: our ‘commander’s’ mother and his young wife, the rest were men in our group. It was still cold in the mountains. There was waist-deep snow. We walked at night since we were afraid of being noticed in the daytime. We could see the road with German and Hungarian armies retreating. We managed to cross it on the third night. During the day we tried to rest a little digging pits in the snow to sleep in them. Once we bumped into a tent on four posts. There was a little straw inside.  We even dared to make a small fire and boil some water. On the first night my mother, sister and I lost the group. My sister got tired and we stopped. E were scared to be on our own, but the men noticed that we got lost and came back looking for us. The fourth day was the most difficult and scary. We crossed the road and started climbing the mountains on the opposite side of the road. We had to cross a mountainous river, wide and quick, but shallow. We had to cross it before the dawn. The men decided to carry the women and children across the river. My sister was the youngest in the group. She was 10 years old. The oldest man had to carry her across the river. I think he must have been about 45, but then he seemed an old man to me. I was the first one to be taken across the river. Then came a man with my mother on his back and beside him was this old man with my sister on his back. In the middle of the river he stumbled and my sister fell into the ice-cold water. When my mother saw it, she dropped her bag with our documents and money into the water. The bag was gone. My sister crawled out of the water onto the opposite bank. Her hands covered with ice crust instantly. Her feet in the boots were wet knee-high. She sat by a tree and said she had to sleep a while before she could move on. The rest of the group was climbing the mountain. They had to come onto another side of it before full dawn. My sister began to freeze. She closed her eyes and was falling asleep. My mother and I were shaking her by her shoulders begging her to hold on. At this time we saw two figures dressed in white climbing down the hill. My mother said this was the end, they were Germans and since we had lost our documents we would not be able to prove that we were not Jews or partisans. However, they were two men from our group. One of them poured a little alcohol and put a slice of pork fat into Kati’s mouth, and another man began to hit Kati with a stick making her walk. My sister obeyed and went on. When we climbed the top of this hill, we saw that the others from our group made a fire. They took my sister closer to the fire, pulled off her boots and stockings and began to rub her hands and feet with snow. When they got warmer, they wrapped my sister in some cloth. A woman gave my sister her valenki boots [winter boots made from sheep felt wool] and borrowed somebody else’s extra boots for herself. These valenki boots saved my sister’s life, and we shall never forget this young woman’s kindness. We fell asleep. I can hardly remember the next day. My sister’s legs were aching, and my mother or one of the men had to carry her. She also had to walk at times. The men gave her a stick to walk with us. By the evening of the sixth day we saw a wonderful house in the forest. It was empty. There was wood in the yard. We got into the house, cooked whatever beans we had and were happy to have a roof over our heads.  We went to sleep. Our leader ordered few men to investigate the situation in nearby settlements. The rest of the men took turns to guard our sleep. Early in the morning our guard saw a man and a woman nearby. They said that there was a village in about 4 km from our place. Romanian and German troops were fighting for it. There was a village in 8 km from there that was already liberated. We decided to go to this village. There was a road nearby and we saw German and Romanian troops moving along it.  My mother saw an older Russian soldier following his wagon and smoking. She suffered from lack of cigarettes and approached him. By her greedy look he knew what she wanted and offered her a self-made cigarette. My mother almost got suffocated from strong tobacco particularly that she hadn’t smoked for so long. The old soldier saw my sister limping and put her on his wagon and we took to our journey. We arrived at a village. There were mainly Romanian soldiers and officers in it. The Russian soldier took us to the military commandant, who accommodated us in a house.  The owners of the house gave us some food, then we washed ourselves and went to sleep on the floor.  In the morning my mother went to see the commandant again. She told him about us and he arranged for us to go to the Soviet military hospital in Miskolc on one of his trucks. The driver dropped us in the town. We felt more at ease there. It was a Hungarian town where we could understand the language and explain what we needed. We went to the nearest snack bar. My mother said we had no money, but we were starved and needed a place to stay. The owner said there was a Jewish community functioning in the town. We went to its office. It was overcrowded, but one man offered us a place to stay and promised to help us. His family perished in a concentration camp. His  housemaid stayed in his apartment during the war. There was a Soviet captain, a Jew, in this office. He was director of the macaroni factory. He told my mother to wait for him and brought us a big bag of macaroni. Our new landlord took us to his apartment. There were few girls, who had returned from a concentration camp, staying in his apartment. He let us his bedroom with two nice beds. We heated a big barrel of water to wash ourselves. We had veal stew with macaroni for dinner, but we were told to eat slowly and just a little. For the first time in a long time we fell asleep in a real bed. In the morning my mother carried my sister to the hospital where they amputated my sister’s toe. The doctors told my mother to bring her to the hospital to change a bandage every day.  One day my mother met our family dentist and his daughter. He told us that they survived in the basement of a house, whose owner supported them. He was eager to go to Kosice to find out about the rest of the family. He offered my mother to come with him and my mother was infinitely happy with his company. We finally got to our house. The windows were broken and it was empty inside. There was light in the neighboring apartment coming from behind the blackouts. My mother rang the bell to this apartment. We recognized the janitor from a neighboring house in the woman who opened the door. Her family lived in the basement of the house. She recognized my mother and let her in. Through the open door my mother saw few pieces of our furniture, our blankets and pillows, bed sheets with my mother’s monograms on them embroidered by a craftswoman for my mother’s wedding. The janitor was rather confused. She said she saved some of our belongings from Germans and would return them. However, this did not make us happy. The janitor said that our father had come by the night before. She told him she hadn’t seen us and he went to Izabella without even coming into the house. We went to Izabella’s house, when it got dark. My mother knocked on a window. A minute later we were hugging our dearest Izabella. Izabella was struck with how we looked. We had all possible clothes on since it was cold. My mother was wrapped in some blanket shreds. Our clothes were dirty, torn and smelly. Izabella heated some water and put my sister and me in the bathtub with hot water. Izabella burnt everything we had on in the oven. After we got washed we put on our aunts’ pajamas, big, but homey and clean. When the bathtub was being filled for mama, the doorbell rang. What happened was that my father had really returned to Kosice the night before. The town party committee organized a banquet in his honor and now he returned from it. Izabella went to open the door to prepare my father to the surprise waiting for him, but my sister and I couldn’t wait and threw ourselves on this tall lean man in a military uniform. While kissing us his eyes were searching for his beloved wife whom he hadn’t seen in three years.  When this strong and brave man, who had come through so many ordeals in recent years saw our mother, he couldn’t stand the test of joy and fainted. My sister looked at him with horror and screamed: “Papa died!’ He recovered his senses from her screaming. Izabella took us to the bedroom where her children were sleeping: my 8-year old cousin Gabor and his 8-months old  sister Marina. My aunt put us to sleep in one bed and went to sleep on another and we fell asleep. One hours later I got high fever and began to talk deliriously. My screams woke Izabella and she gave me pills and applied compresses all night through. In the morning a doctor came and said this was a nervous breakdown. He prescribed me a sedative. Our father told us how he came to Kosice from Uzhgorod. He was secretary of the regional party committee in Uzhgorod. He got a letter from his niece Judit, Izodor’s daughter, who returned to Kosice from a concentration camp and met with her fiancé. Her parents perished in the concentration camp and since she hadn’t reached the age of 18, her marriage could only be registered at her parents’ consent. Judit asked my father to give his consent to her marriage and this was how my father came to Kosice. He got a 3-week leave and had a car to take him to Kosice. My father adopted Judit, and young people got married soon.  We moved to Uzhgorod.           

There was a surprise waiting for us there. My father’s cousin Terez, grandfather brother Pal Edelmann’ daughter and her two friends, our distant relatives. They had all returned from a concentration camp. Some time later my father’s nephew Adolf joined us. His sisters Livia and Judit lived in Prague. It was hard for them to raise their younger brother and they sent him to us. Adolf was like one of us in the family.

We also got information about other members of the family. Grandfather Pal’s widow Betti, her daughter Terez, and sons Emil and Jozsef were taken to Auschwitz in April 1944. Betti perished in a gas chamber, and the children were sent to a work camp. After liberation Terez returned to Kosice, got married and was manager of a canteen at school. She is 86 now. Emil also worked in a camp. After returning home he moved to Israel. He lived his life and died there. . His family lives in Israel. Jozsef returned to Kosice after the war. He died in the 1980s. Jozsef’s family was also taken to a concentration camp. Jozsef and his wife perished in the crematorium. Their children survived.  Laszlo moved to Australia in 1946, got married and owned a men’s garments’ factory. In late 1940s he helped his sisters Kato, Magda, Judit and Eva and their families to move to Australia. Laszlo has died, but his family and his sisters’ families live in Sydney. My grandfather’s sister Regina Berger, her husband and their son Simon also moved to Australia after returning from a concentration camp. Regina and her husband lived their life in Australia, died and were buried there. Their son Simon moved to Canada where he lives with his family. My father’s cousin brothers, my grandfather sister Pepka’s children, who were raised in my grandfather’s family, were in a concentration camp. Only the middle daughter Regina (her family name was Muller) returned to  Kosice. Aranka and Jeno perished in the camp. Vilmos, the son of Nandor, who died in 1942, survived. He told me that when his mother Liza, Vilmos and 7-year old Tamas arrived at Auschwitz, the sorting began. The younger son was taken to the group of inmates that were sent to a gas chamber. A German officer approached Liza and whispered into her ear, - Vilmos heard this discussion, - ‘Gnädige Frau! – that was how he addressed Liza, - I advise you to follow your older son. Liza replied that her son could take care of himself while her younger son couldn’t. The officer was convincing her telling her that the younger son would be taken care of and she would be able to see him, but Liza was inexorable. She took her younger son by his hand and went into the gas chamber with him. 14-year old Vilmos worked at a German plant. After the war he left for Israel, studied and became a lawyer. He changed his name to Zeev Singer. Since Israel was at war, Vilmos decided his place was in the army. He was promoted to the rank of colonel of the Israel army. He served in landing units and participated in all wars with Arabs. Vilmos was severely wounded, demobilized and worked as a lawyer in Tel Aviv. Zeev Singer is a national hero of Israel. He is a pensioner. He has two children and six grandchildren in Israel. My grandfather’s sister Betka Gerstl and her husband and children were also taken to a concentration camp. Betka and her husband Moric Gerstl were exterminated immediately. Betka’s daughter Ilona Zimmermann with her children and Betka’s sons Jeno and David perished in the concentration camp. Only her son Armin Gerstl survived and moved to Israel shortly after he returned. He has passed away. Mor Bergman, son of my father’s favorite aunt Relka, married a girl from Zvolen before Hungarians came to power and moved to his wife’s town. After 1938 Zvolen belonged to Slovakia and Kosice was Hungarian. When Jews began to be sent to Germany, Mor and his wife tried to cross the border and return to Kosice, but were captured and killed right there. Relka’s daughter Ilona stayed with her mother. They both perished in a concentration camp. My father sister Anna’s family, the Hertz family, was also taken to Auschwitz. Anna and her husband Moric were exterminated immediately. Of their 10 children only two survived: son Aladar; he lives in Frankfurt in Germany, and daughter Terez – she emigrated to Israel after the war. Terez has passed away. Her children live in Israel. Anna’s younger daughter Eszter also moved to Israel. She lives and works in a kibbutz. Sons Tibor, Marcel, Erno, Pal and Sandor and daughters Sarolta, Ilona and Edit and their families perished in the concentration camp. Grandfather’s youngest sister Etelka and her husband Jakab Blumenfeld and their younger children – son Erno and daughter Marta also perished in the concentration camp. Older daughters Edit (Gerstl in marriage) and Izabella (Kovartovski in marriage) were in a work camp and survived. After the war they moved to Israel. They’ve both passed away.  

My father’s brothers and sisters also suffered. The Hungarian police arrested Izodor and his wife Gizi in 1944 and charged them with concealment of Mor and his wife who had illegally crossed the border from Slovakia to Hungary escaping from the deportation. Izodor and his wife were put to prison.  In April 1944 Izodor and his wife Gizi  were taken to Buchenwald. According to eye witnesses Izodor behaved heroically in the camp. He went on hunger strikes and called other prisoners to disobey the oppressors. Izodor was executing with an electric wire and his wife was exterminated in a gas chamber. Their three children survived. Their older daughter Livia was a serious and smart girl. She wanted to become a doctor. She finished a grammar school in 1943. This was at the time of fascist Hungary and Livia could not get a higher education.  She finished a course of medical nurses in Budapest and went to work. She managed to avoid deportation to a concentration camp. Under a different name she went to work as a housemaid in a Czech village.   After the war Livia moved to Prague where her dream came true. She finished a Medical College and became a children’s doctor. She married a Czech man and had two daughters. Livia’s husband has passed away. She is a pensioner. Her daughters are married. Izodor’s second daughter Judit and her brother Adolf lived in the Tatras during German occupation where they stayed with other members of the Edelmann’s family. They were in the 2nd group that Erno managed to take out of Kosice after us. After the war Judit returned to Kosice. After my father adopted her and gave his consent to her marriage she got married at the age of 17 and had a daughter. Shortly afterward Judit divorced her husband, left for Prague with her daughter and remarried. She became a widow recently. Her daughter Julia moved to Australia in 1968 where she lives with her family. Adolf finished a secondary school and we both went to Leningrad where he graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy of Leningrad University. He returned to Uzhgorod, finished a post-graduate institute. He was senior lecturer of the Faculty of Philosophy of Uzhgorod University. He got married and had two sons, Ilia and Andrey. When they grew up, they decided to move to Hungary. Adolf and his wife followed them there. They live in Szolnok. Adolf and his wife are pensioners. I believe Adolf to be my brother. We keep in touch writing letters, calling each other and visiting each other every now and then.

Jeno and his family was taken to Buchenwald. German executioners killed Jeno, and his wife Adel, sons Erno and Karoly and twin daughters Livia and Stella were burnt in the crematorium. 

My father sister Etelka’s family, grandmother Amalia and the youngest brother Armin were taken to Mauthausen. Only aunt Etelka survived. Grandmother and her two granddaughters Livia and Edit were burnt in the crematorium. Etelka’s husband and brother perished in the camp. According to eye-witnesses they died of typhoid. Etelka worked at a factory. In May 1945 Americans liberated her and she returned to Uzhgorod. It was hard to look at her: a young woman turned into an old one. She weighed 37 kg.  She lived with us in Uzhgood. My parents took every effort to bring her to recovery.

After the war

Only two of 7 families survived in the war: our family and my father brother Elemer’s family. Erno managed to take him, his wife, son Tamas and daughter Julia out of Kosice. They also took hiding in the woods living in an earth hut. After the war Terez divorced him and moved with their children to USA where her brother lived. Terez has passed away and Tamas and Julia and their families live in the States.  Elemer moved to Israel where he died at the age of 70.

My mother’s sister Izabella and her family stayed in Kosice. Her children and their families still live there. My cousin Gabor Tamm became a metallurgical engineer there. His younger sister Marina was an economist.  They are pensioners. We visit each other and talk on the phone.
When I went to Israel in 1989, I filled the forms and submitted the lists of the members of our family who perished during the war to the Yad Vashem 11 in Jerusalem.

My father received a wonderful 3-bedroom apartment. There were 6 of us living in it: our family, my cousin Adolf and aunt Etelka. My father became a secretary of the regional party committee.  In 1945 my father’s comrade Vinkler visited us. He was a member of the party like my father and was put in prison in 1940. When communists began to cross the border to the USSR, Vinkler went with them. He was arrested at the border and sent to thee GULAG where he spent two years. Then he was taken to Moscow where he was made responsible for a radio program in Hungarian. He worked there during the war, and in 1945 he decided to return to Kosice. On his way home he visited Uzhgorod to see my father. My father and mother were on vacation in a recreation center. Vinkler asked me to send them a message to come back home. Vinkler understood that life in the USSR was hard and it wasn’t worth staying here, but he couldn’t talk about it with me. When I told my father, he said: ‘I’ve fought for the Soviet power and want to live where the Soviet power is. I’ve had enough of fighting’. My mother, though she was a communist, understood very soon what was going on and often spoke very emotionally about it. I think, in his heart, my father agreed with her, but he always told mother that this was the fault of some people, but not the regime. My father rarely criticized some officials, but if somebody in his presence expressed his concerns about the Soviet power, my father always spoke in its favor. Some people did it from fear: many people were afraid of speaking their mind in fear of arrests 12 that went on in the USSR. However, my father was a very brave man. When the Soviet power was established in Subcarpathia, they began to arrest the Hungarian officials for the charges of their service for fascists. They were innocent, but they were to go to prison anyway. In 1945 my father saved many of these people. He saved Laszlo Sandor, a free lance employee of the ‘Mai Nap’ newspaper, from the camp where he was taken just for being a Hungarian, which meant fascist for them. My father witnessed that Sandor had always sympathized with communists. There were other similar cases. Of course, later I realized that my father could not have kept his belief in communist ideas living in the USSR. He got disappointed and acknowledged it and suffered from it very much.

My father didn’t work as secretary of the regional party committee for long. I understood later that they could not allow a Jew to hold this kind of position. My father was appointed logistics manager of the regional executive committee [Ispolkom] 13. He supported construction of two bridges in Uzhgorod: pedestrian and automobile. He was a born administrator and manager. However, in the opinion of authorities, a Jew was no good even for this position. There were two big plants in Uzhgorod: woodworking plant and plywood and furniture plant. Their directors were not very competent and the plants were in decay. Town authorities united these plants and appointed my father director. He was dedicated to his job, and soon the enterprise began to prosper. After the campaign against cosmopolites 14 during the postwar years, anti-Semitism in the USSR was growing stronger, and again danger hanged over my father.

In 1946 my aunt Etelka living with us after she returned from the concentration camp, married Ignac Bergida, who had also lost his family to the war. He lived in Uzhgorod before the war. He liked Etelka even then. His first marriage was prearranged. He was a decent, kind and honest man. He was an accountant. When my father became director of the plant, he employed Bergida. In 1947 Bergida and Etelka’s daughter Vera was born. In 1945 the soviet regime began to struggle against religion 15. Most Jews in Subcarpathia were religious. All synagogue were closed in Uzhgorod. The biggest – the Hasidic – synagogue was given to the town Philharmonic. The Jewish community decided to send their representative to the Jewish Antifascist Committee 16 in Moscow for help. Bergida was not an activist in the community, but he was the only one who could speak Russian.  Ukrainian Ivan Turianitza, the first secretary of the regional party committee, my father’s close friend, issued a letter to Fefer, a member of the Committee, requesting him to support the community. Bergida went to Moscow. Shortly after he returned, the Antifascist Committee was liquidated and its members executed. The KGB 17 was aware of Bergida’s trip to Moscow. He was arrested and sentenced to 25 years in the GULAG. The charges against him were treason and support of international Zionism and capitalism. This was nonsense and was not true, but at the beginning even my father believed he was guilty, so strong the Soviet propaganda was. However, my father was Bergida’s relative.  Somebody reported that my father went to the synagogue and for this reason refused to work on Saturday. This was wrong, of course: my father was an atheist even when religion was the way of life. KGB officers followed my father looking for a ground to arrest him. Stalin’s death on 5 March 1953 saved my father from arrest. Bergida’s sentence was reduced to 10 years. He had cancer at that time, and they released him from the GULAG. He died in 1956 and was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Uzhgorod. My parents supported Etelka and her daughter. Etelka has passed away. My cousin Vera Brown lives in the USA.

My sister and I went to the school for girls. When Subcarpathia became Soviet, the Russian language was introduced in all spheres of life. There were Russian schools, and only my father could speak the language.  We still spoke Hungarian at home. However, children pick languages easily, and a year later my sister and I had no problems with speaking Russian. I had all excellent marks at school in all years. My sister had different marks. Our father was a patriot and raised us to love our Soviet Motherland. We became pioneers and then joined Komsomol 18. I didn’t face any anti-Semitism at school, but I cannot say it did not exist in Uzhgorod. After the process against cosmopolites began to encourage anti-Semitic moods, as I understand now, but our father protected us from this information. He didn’t want us to get disappointed in the Soviet power.

I finished school in 1949. I got to know that there was a faculty of eastern languages, and the Finnish-Hungarian department in it in Leningrad University. I wrote them and they replied they would be happy to admit me, particularly that Hungarian was my native language. Professor Bubrik, chief of this chair, wrote that I could work for him at the department. However, there were only 2 applications submitted to this Faculty while they needed at least 8, so they cancelled this admission.  So, they suggested that I entered another department, passed academic exams during my first year and enter the 3rd year of the university. My father wanted me to return home, but I decided to stay in Leningrad. I passed exams to the French department of the College of Foreign languages. I was accommodated in a hostel and started my study on 1 September. I never went to study in the university, though: professor Bubrik died and they closed the Finnish-Hungarian department. I finished the College of Foreign languages successfully. I studied French and English, and also, passed exams in German, that I knew since childhood to obtain a certificate for teaching it. 

I got to know what anti-Semitism is like in college. We had wonderful lecturers. During the process against cosmopolites wonderful lecturers and scientists were fired from the university and Academy. Rector of the College of Foreign languages employed them. Yefim Etkind, a brilliant scientist and a charming person, taught us stylistics and translation.  Etkind brought me to understanding that not everything in the USSR was so great as we were used to thinking. I didn’t face any anti-Semitism till early 1953, the disgraceful ‘doctors’ plot’ 19. There were Jews in college and in our group. My closest friend was Rosa Fradkina, a Jewish girl from Leningrad, whose family perished during the blockade 20. She was taken out of the city by the ‘Road of Life’ 21, and was sent to a children’s home. Rosa grew up there and returned to her home city. Rosa spent vacations at my home and became one of us in the family. Our friendship became a lifelong relation. We correspond and phone each other and sometimes Rosa visits me.

The ‘doctors’ plot’ brought open anti-Semitism to life. People with typical Semitic appearance were abused publicly and there was nobody to stand for them.  In polyclinics patients asked about doctors’ nationality and refused to go to Jewish doctors. [Jewish was considered a nationally among many others in the Soviet Union and it was registered in peoples’ passports.] This was hard and scary. When I heard that Stalin dead on 5 March 1953, I couldn’t hold back my tears. There was a mourning meeting and we were all crying. There was one question: how do we go on living and what will happen to the country now that Stalin is dead. I can still remember this feeling of fear. 

I met my future husband in Uzhgorod, when Rosa and I came home on vacation. There was an open-air swimming pool near the railway station. We spend much time there swimming and lying in the sun: Rosa, my sister and I. . Kati finished 8 forms and entered the Electric Engineering technical college in Vinogradovo, despite our parents’ protests. She fell in love with a senior student of this college. My sister’s friend was a sportsman. Once he injured his spine and the bruise developed into tumor. He was taken to a hospital in Uzhgorod. My sister gave up her studies and returned to Uzhgorod. She entered an evening school and spent days in the hospital. He died and it was very hard on my sister. We tried to support her and I always took my sister with us wherever we went. We met our future husbands by this swimming pool. My husband Adolf Haikis was a doctor in the Uzhgorod military hospital. He was born in Kiev in 1921. His father Solomon Haikis was an endocrinologist in the clinic for scientists in Kiev. He had finished the Medical Faculty of Berlin University before the revolution of 1917 22. He had good memories about the years of his studies and he gave his son the German name of Adolf.  Back in 1921it was not associated with Hitler. His mother Vera Haikis, nee Kozlova, came from the Jewish family of the Kozlovs, attorneys in Kiev.  Adolf wanted to become a literarian, but there was no literature college in Kiev and he decided to become a doctor to follow into his father’s steps. He entered Kiev Medical College. In 1944 Adolf finished college and went to the front. He was doctor in hospital. In 1947 he requested to demobilize from the army. He entered the residency department and specialized in neuropathology.  After finishing the residency he returned to the army and became a military doctor, neuropathologist in the Uzhgorod hospital.  Returned to Uzhgorod in 1956 after finishing my college and we got married. Of course, we didn’t have a traditional Jewish wedding. We registered our marriage in a registry office and had a wedding dinner for our relatives and friends.  We lived with my parents. I went to work as a French schoolteacher. In 1955 our only daughter Ludmila was born. My father loved her dearly. He called her ‘the last love of his life’. At that time my parents lived in Velikaya Dobron [30 km from Uzhgorod, 680 km from Kiev] village, but they often came to Uzhgorod: my mother visited us more often than my father. My sister married Leopold Lowenberg, a Jew from Mukachevo [40 km from Uzhgorod, 650 km from Kiev] She moved to Mukachevo with her husband. She finished higher accounting courses and worked as an accountant and then chief accountant in a big store. Her husband was a shop superintendent at a factory. In 1953 their only daughter Julia was born. We didn’t celebrate any Jewish holidays in our family even in my childhood. Since 1945 our family always celebrated Soviet holidays: 1 May, 7 November 23, Soviet army day 24, Victory Day 25 and the New Year, of course. We always had guests and lots of fun.

It was more and more difficult for my father to work as director of the plant. Workers liked him very much, but the pressure of party authorities was hard for him.  When in 1954 General Secretary of the CC CPSU Nikita Khrushchev 26 appealed to communists to go to villages to improve the kolkhoses 27, my father was among the first ones to respond to this appeal. He went to Velikaya Dobron village in Uzhgorod district and became chairman of the kolkhoz. My mother followed him, of course.  This was remote village, with no polyclinic or public baths. In one year my father turned this kolkhoz into a successful enterprises. Velikaya Dobron residents adored him for becoming wealthy. A school, a polyclinic, a public bath were built and villagers had new houses with all comforts.  The villagers called my father ‘our father’. However, not everything was well with his work. At that time local authorities demanded to show higher quantities in documents to pretend there were more successes than in reality and there was much pressure on my father in this regard. My father was an honest man and convinced communist and refused to do any falsifications. One day in June 1963 he was invited to another bureau of the district party committee. When he came home, he had an infarction. He survived, but he could work no longer. My parents returned to Uzhgorod. My father became a free lance correspondent for the ‘Karpati Igaz Szo’ newspaper. [Carpathian True Word, Hungarian language Soviet newspaper, issued in Uzhgorod.] My father suffered much than neither his daughters nor their husbands were members of the party. Though my husband was a military, he never joined the party and this had an impact on his career.  Through 14 years of his work in Uzhgorod hospital he was in the rank of captain, though it was time for him to be promoted to the rank of major. They wouldn’t have promoted a Jew, particularly that he was not a member of the party. My husband knew what the party policy was worth.  After the 20th Congress of CPSU 28 we heard about Stalin and his regime’s crimes from the speech of Nikita Khrushchev. My husband and I believed this to be true. The 20th Congress was followed by the so-called ‘thaw’. We were hoping for improvements, but some time later we realized that these expectations were not to become true. The CPSU and KGB guided the life in the country.

In late October 1956 my husband received an emergency call ordering him to come to his unit immediately. This was all he knew any relocation at that time was confidential. In the morning my husband called me to inform that he was leaving. The only point of contact was captain Ostapenko in his hospital. I put my 11-month old daughter into her pram and ran to the hospital. I got to know that they were sent to Hungary by train. I read about the events in Hungary [23rd October 1956] 29 in newspapers. It was scaring. I feared for my husband, was sorry for the actions of the Soviet government and sympathized with Hungary. My husband called me from Budapest: they deployed a hospital in the basement of the Parliament building. My husband met a telephone operator. Her name was Judit like mine. My husband didn’t speak Hungarian, but he spoke German. He told Judit about me and our daughter and she allowed him to call me every evening. My husband’s best friend Samuel Frek, a Jew, an endocrinologist from the Uzhgorod hospital was sent in his ambulance vehicle to Hungary. On their way they were halted by a group of Hungarian rebels, about 40 of them. They disarmed them and ordered our doctors to stand with their backs to trees, but they did not shoot them and let them go few minutes later. In these few minutes, Samuel Frek, a dark-haired handsome man of the same age as my husband, turned gray. Upon their return to Uzhgorod they began to have problems. The political department demanded that they explained why they gave away their weapons. Hey didn’t want to understand that 3 doctors could not resist 40 armed men, even though the rebels returned their guns to the military commandant of Uzhgorod.

Few months later the military in Hungary were allowed to bring their families there. My daughter and I joined my husband in Hungary. I was happy to speak Hungarian and hear my native language around me. I served as interpreter for other militaries. In 1957 my husband’s father died in Kiev. There were restrictions about traveling from Hungary and my husband was not allowed to go to his father’s funeral. We received the notification about his death on Friday, but my husband had to wait for a permit for departure till Monday. My father went to the funeral from Uzhgorod. My husband went to Kiev later to support his mother after the funeral. My father-in-law was buried in the Baykovoye town cemetery in Kiev.

From Hungary we returned to Uzhgorod with my husband’s division. In the early 1960s armed conflicts with the Chinese started on the Far Eastern border. Khrushchev began to send divisions from all over the USSR to the Far East. 1963 was a very hard year for our family. My father’s health condition was very severe after the infarction, and he had to stay in Dobron. We had to look after my father. My husband’s mother spent spring and summer with us, leaving for Kiev in early November. That year my husband was planning to take her to Kiev before 7 November. On 13 October she died suddenly of infarction. She was an atheist and we arranged a secular funeral. On 23 October my husband’s hospital was given an order to send 4 people to the Far East. There were only 3 Jewish employees in the hospital: Haikis, Flek and Wasserman, and all of them were sent to the Far East. The 4th man was a Russian doctor. They went to the gathering point in Vladimir-Volynskiy. My husband asked the general to allow him 10 days to make arrangements for his mother’s apartment in Kiev to be returned in the ownership of the state. The general gave him the leave. Then my husband in November 1963 moved on to my husband’s point of destination. He got a job in a big hospital in the Primorskiy Kray, Kraskino village, on the very border with China, a district town of the Khasan district in 50 km from the Khasan Lake. I only managed to obtain a permit in February 1964, I and our daughter came to Kraskino. We could see Chinese houses from our hut. I went to work in the only village school. My daughter also went to this school.   We spent vacations with my parents in Uzhgorod every year. In 1968 we also planned to go there, but my husband fell ill and we had to stay home. When he got better, we went to the recreation house for high-rank officers near Vladivostok. This was August 1968 , and we heard about the events in Czechoslovakia [Prague Spring] 30. I remember how shocked my husband and I were, when we heard about the invasion of Soviet armies of Czechoslovakia, the country that I believe to be my Motherland. I’ve always loved it.  In this recreation house we met a lecturer from the Academy in Leningrad, a Jewish man. When we met after we heard about the events in Czechoslovakia, I remember how this Jewish colonel and my husband cursed the Soviet power for this invasion: ‘How could we bring tanks to Prague? How could they allow it to happen?’ When I returned to Uzhgorod later, I got to know that Erno, my father’s cousin, when Soviet tanks invaded Prague in 1968, decided to leave the USSR for Israel. Erno was professor of Medicine lecturing in the Prague Medical University. He became a doctor in Israel. Erno has passed away, but his widow, son Karoly, a cardiologist, the father of four children, and his daughter Eva, an archeologist, live in Israel. She had two daughters.

The Far East promoted my husband’s military career. This was a different world with no anti-Semitism where people were valued for their human merits rather than their nationality.  My husband was appointed chief of department and promoted to the rank of major. 4 years later he became chief of the hospital and promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel. During military actions my husband worked in a field hospital. The term of service in the Far East was 5 years and we lived there 7 years. Upon completion of this term my husband was sent to the Сarpathian military regiment.  We moved to Uzhgorod, and settled down with m parents. My daughter went to the 8th form a school. My husband went to the regiment commander, a general, to report of his arrival. The general stared at him: lieutenant colonel, a Jew and chief of the medical department of hospital – how could this be true? It just could not happen in Ukraine. Commander of the regiment advised my husband to visit with the family in Uzhgorod since he was not ready yet to talk with him and hopefully, when Adolf came back, he would have a job to offer him. 10 days later my husband came back to Lvov. The general offered him the position of chief of the medical department of the hospital in Korosten, a small town in Zhytomyr region [85 km from Zhytomyr, 165 km from Kiev]. Before the revolution of 1917 Korosten was within the Jewish Pale of Settlement 31. There were many Jewish residents in the town. 80% of medical employees of the hospital were Jews. We were welcomed nicely. My daughter went to school and I went to work as a French teacher at school. After finishing school my daughter went to my parents in Uzhgorod and entered the English department of the Faculty of foreign languages of Uzhgorod University. My husband wanted to demobilize from the army and move to Kiev, his hometown. We did it in 1974. We received a 2-bedroom apartment in a new house near a lake in the Sviatoshino district in Kiev. My husband had a confirmation of his transfer of the parents’ apartment to the state and this helped a lot. My husband worked a neuropathologist in the polyclinic for scientists of the Academy of Scientists. I worked as a German and French teacher at school till I retired. I got along with my colleagues and my pupils liked me. My former pupils visit and call me. I am very glad that they do not forget me.

In the 1970s Jews began to move to Israel. My husband did not appreciate this process. He did not understand how they could leave their Motherland and their kin’s graves. My father had the same attitude to emigration. Our close friend Tsypkin, a traumatologist from Uzhgorod, and his family left the country. My husband was trying to convince them against doing it.  I met with the Tsypkins in Berlin last year. They are doing very well. Their children are well. They have a decent living in their old age, which cannot be said about Ukrainian the Commonwealth of Independent States pensioners. Now I receive my husband’s pension as his dependent, as I hadn’t worked in my life. My own teacher’s pension wouldn’t even be enough to pay my monthly fees. 

In 1975 my father died few months before he was to turn 70. We buried him in the town cemetery in Uzhgorod. He was an atheists and we arranged for a secular funeral. My daughter still lived with my mother, and my mother didn’t feel complete loneliness. Upon graduation from the University Ludmila married Miloslav Goshovskiy and moved in with her husband. Their apartment faced the central synagogue that housed the Philharmonic during the Soviet power. Miloslav is a physicist. He graduated from the Lvov Polytechnic University and worked in the Uzhgorod affiliate of the institute of nuclear research. Since the head institute was in Kiev we were hoping that they would move to Kiev. Ludmila worked as an English teacher in the children’s center at the gymnasium. My granddaughter Yekaterina was born in 1978. Two years later my grandson Mikhail was born. Ludmila and her husband decided to stay in Uzhgorod. My mother often visited us in Kiev staying with us for a long time. After our grandchildren were born, she began to spend more time in Uzhgorod helping Ludmila to take care of the children. My mother died in 1985 at the age of 76. She was buried beside my father.

My sister and her family lived in Mukachevo. Her daughter Julia finished school with a golden medal and entered the University. She got an offer to go to study at the Faculty of Hungarian Language and Literature of the Budapest University under a students’ exchange program. Julia went to Budapest, and my sister and her husband wanted to live close to their daughter. They decided to move to Hungary, but they could not obtain the visa. After they had 3 refusals Klara and her husband decided to move to Israel for Julia to join them later. Of course, had my father been alive, he would have never allowed my sister to emigrate. They obtained a permit and left. They settled down in Netanya. My sister went to work as a cashier in a supermarket, and Leopold worked as a goods expert in a store. After finishing her study Julia worked in Budapest as an editor of Hebrew-Hungarian dictionaries in a dictionary publishing office. Julia had no chance to join her parents: Hungary did not allow emigration to Israel in 1970s. Julia undertook few efforts and then decided to trick the authorities: in 1978 she bought a tour to France and from there she left for Israel illegally. In Israel Julia married Boris Penson, an artist. He had come to Israel from the USSR. Julia and Boris have two wonderful sons. Max, the older one, born in 1981, served in the army and works for an army organization. Roy, the younger son, born in 1989, studied in high school and later at a higher education institution in Natanya. Now she owns a publishing house. They have a house in Netaniya. Klara and Leo are pensioners now.

In 1982 my husband died. On 30 April he was at work receiving patients and on 1 May he had an infarction. He died on 4 May 1982. We buried Adolf near his father in the Baykovoye cemetery in Kiev. Since then I’ve lived alone. I often visit my daughter’s family in Uzhgorod and my grandchildren visit me. In 2002 a terrible tragedy happened in our family. My daughter fell severely ill. She had a malicious tumor in her brain. She had a surgery, but to no avail. Nobody told me my daughter’s diagnosis, and when I heard about it, she was already dying. Despite a surgery and our efforts she died in 2002, so young that she was. There will be always pain of this loss with me.

After finishing school Yekaterina entered the Historical Faculty of Uzhgorod University. Mikhail studied at the Medical Faculty in the university. My granddaughter also taught history in the Jewish Sunday school and my grandson worked as a medical brother during studies. When she was a senior student in the university, my granddaughter. After finishing the 4th year of the university my granddaughter took an academic leave and went to work in Germany for a year, to Stuttgart. She met her future husband Michael Hertzog, a German man, there. They got married. A year later Yekaterina returned to Uzhgorod, finished her studies in the university and moved in with her husband in Germany. Now she studies at the Faculty of Economics in Osnabruck. My grandson Mikhail also moved to Germany after finishing his studies.    

In the late 1980s General Secretary of the CPSY Mikhail Gorbachev 32 initiated perestroika 33 in the USSR. I was enthusiastic about it. Finally freedom came to the USSR that I believed to be y second Motherland. There were articles on various subjects that had been forbidden formerly, published. There were books by for example, those of Alexandr Solzhenitsyn 34 published that would have been judged as anti-Soviet propaganda in the past. The ‘iron curtain’ 35 that separated us from the rest of the world for many years, collapsed. Citizens of the USSR were allowed to communicate with people living abroad without fearing the KGB, correspond with relatives 36 and invite them home. There was no longer ban on religion that had been in place since the start of the soviet power. People were allowed to go to temples and celebrate religious holidays. Religious and everyday anti-Semitism was reducing. We, citizens of the USSR, were happy and full of hopes for a different life. I could finally travel to Israel to visit my sister and see my friends. I was happy about it. It’s hard to say how much Israel impressed me. It’s an amazingly beautiful country where the antiquity and modern life are in complete conformity. Unfortunately, this little country living in the encirclement of hostile neighbors, knows no peace. I wish Israel peace, quiet life and prosperity from the bottom of my heart.   

When after the breakup of the USSR [1991] Ukraine gained independence, we were building up hopes  for a better life, but many of us still live in the humiliating poverty. Ukraine is rich in natural resources, fruitful soils and hardworking people. I believe, we have such poor life due to our leaders who guided the country in the Soviet times. However, there has been some improvement. The Jewish life is reviving. There are many Jewish organizations and associations, and the most popular with old people is the Hesed 37, of course. The Hesed in Kiev provides food packages to us, delivers meals to elderly people and bring medications. This is significant assistance. We are in a better position than non-Jewish residents. Hesed is just great! It conducts a great job to recover Jewry in Ukraine, from nursery schools to old people helping them to study the Jewish history, history of religion, and learn more about Jewish traditions. There are various studios and clubs. I like our Sunday daytime center where we talk with other people – this is very important. Sometimes talking to others is more important than food. I have new friends in the daytime center and we enjoy spending time together. I read Hesed-delivered Jewish newspapers and magazines regularly. Soon I am moving to my grandchildren in Germany, my family. It’s hard to live alone in my age. Of course, it’s hard to leave everything here, it’s been a big part of my life, hard to leave the graves of my dear ones and get adjusted to a different way of life, but I hope to able to visit Uzhgorod and Kiev, my two hometowns.

GLOSSARY:


1 First Czechoslovak Republic (1918-1938): The First Czechoslovak Republic was created after the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy following World War I. The union of the Czech lands and Slovakia was officially proclaimed in Prague in 1918, and formally recognized by the Treaty of St. Germain in 1919. Ruthenia was added by the Treaty of Trianon in 1920. Czechoslovakia inherited the greater part of the industries of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy and the new government carried out an extensive land reform, as a result of which the living conditions of the peasantry increasingly improved. However, the constitution of 1920 set up a highly centralized state and failed to take into account the issue of national minorities, and thus internal political life was dominated by the struggle of national minorities (especially the Hungarians and the Germans) against Czech rule. In foreign policy Czechoslovakia kept close contacts with France and initiated the foundation of the Little Entente in 1921.

2 Masaryk, Tomas Garrigue (1850-1937)

Czechoslovak political leader and philosopher and chief founder of the First Czechoslovak Republic. He founded the Czech People’s Party in 1900, which strove for Czech independence within the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, for the protection of minorities and the unity of Czechs and Slovaks. After the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy in 1918, Masaryk became the first president of Czechoslovakia. He was reelected in 1920, 1927, and 1934. Among the first acts of his government was an extensive land reform. He steered a moderate course on such sensitive issues as the status of minorities, especially the Slovaks and Germans, and the relations between the church and the state. Masaryk resigned in 1935 and Edvard Benes, his former foreign minister, succeeded him.

4 Neolog Jewry

Following a Congress in 1868/69 in Budapest, where the Jewish community was supposed to discuss several issues on which the opinion of the traditionalists and the modernizers differed and which aimed at uniting Hungarian Jews, Hungarian Jewry was officially split into to (later three) communities, which all built up their own national community network. The Neologs were the modernizers, who opposed the Orthodox on various questions.

5 Hasid

The follower of the Hasidic movement, a Jewish mystic movement founded in the 18th century that reacted against Talmudic learning and maintained that God’s presence was in all of one’s surroundings and that one should serve God in one’s every deed and word. The movement provided spiritual hope and uplifted the common people. There were large branches of Hasidic movements and schools throughout Eastern Europe before World War II, each following the teachings of famous scholars and thinkers. Most had their own customs, rituals and life styles. Today there are substantial Hasidic communities in New York, London, Israel and Antwerp.
6 Subcarpathia (also known as Ruthenia, Russian and Ukrainian name Zakarpatie): Region situated on the border of the Carpathian Mountains with the Middle Danube lowland. The regional capitals are Uzhhorod, Berehovo, Mukachevo, Khust. It belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy until World War I; and the Saint-Germain convention declared its annexation to Czechoslovakia in 1919. It is impossible to give exact historical statistics of the language and ethnic groups living in this geographical unit: the largest groups in the interwar period were Hungarians, Rusyns, Russians, Ukrainians, Czech and Slovaks. In addition there was also a considerable Jewish and Gypsy population. In accordance with the first Vienna Decision of 1938, the area of Subcarpathia mainly inhabited by Hungarians was ceded to Hungary. The rest of the region, was proclaimed a new state called Carpathian Ukraine in 1939, with Khust as its capital, but it only existed for four and a half months, and was occupied by Hungary in March 1939. Subcarpathia was taken over by Soviet troops and local guerrillas in 1944. In 1945, Czechoslovakia ceded the area to the USSR and it gained the name Carpatho-Ukraine. The region became part of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1945. When Ukraine became independent in 1991, the region became an administrative region under the name of Transcarpathia.
6 Trianon Peace Treaty: Trianon is a palace in Versailles where, as part of the Paris Peace Conference, the peace treaty was signed with Hungary on 4th June 1920. It was the official end of World War I for the countries concerned. The Trianon Peace Treaty validated the annexation of huge parts of pre-war Hungary by the states of Austria (the province of Burgenland) and Romania (Transylvania, and parts of Eastern Hungary). The northern part of pre-war Hungary was attached to the newly created Czechoslovak state (Slovakia and Subcarpathia) while Croatia-Slavonia as well as parts of Southern Hungary (Voivodina, Baranja, Medjumurje and Prekmurje) were to the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenians (later Yugoslavia). Hungary lost 67.3% of its pre-war territory, including huge areas populated mostly or mainly by Hungarians, and 58.4% of its population. As a result approximately one third of the Hungarians became an - often oppressed - ethnic minority in some of the predominantly hostile neighboring countries. Trianon became the major point of reference of interwar nationalistic and anti-Semitic Hungarian regimes.
7 Anti-Jewish laws in Hungary: Following similar legislation in Nazi Germany, Hungary enacted three Jewish laws in 1938, 1939 and 1941. The first law restricted the number of Jews in industrial and commercial enterprises, banks and in certain occupations, such as legal, medical and engineering professions, and journalism to 20% of the total number. This law defined Jews on the basis of their religion, so those who converted before the short-lived Hungarian Soviet Republic in 1919, as well as those who fought in World War I, and their widows and orphans were exempted from the law. The second Jewish law introduced further restrictions, limiting the number of Jews in the above fields to 6%, prohibiting the employment of Jews completely in certain professions such as high school and university teaching, civil and municipal services, etc. It also forbade Jews to buy or sell land and so forth. This law already defined Jews on more racial grounds in that it regarded baptized children that had at least one non-converted Jewish parent as Jewish. The third Jewish law prohibited intermarriage between Jews and non-Jews, and defined anyone who had at least one Jewish grandparent as Jewish.


8 The Soviet system of forced labor camps in the remote regions of Siberia and the Far North, which was first established in 1919. However, it was not until the early 1930s that there was a significant number of inmates in the camps. By 1934 the Gulag, or the Main Directorate for Corrective Labor Camps, then under the Cheka's successor organization the NKVD, had several million inmates. The prisoners included murderers, thieves, and other common criminals, along with political and religious dissenters. The Gulag camps made significant contributions to the Soviet economy during the rule of Stalin. Conditions in the camps were extremely harsh. After Stalin died in 1953, the population of the camps was reduced significantly, and conditions for the inmates improved somewhat.

9 Great Patriotic War

On 22nd June 1941 at 5 o’clock in the morning Nazi Germany attacked the Soviet Union without declaring war. This was the beginning of the so-called Great Patriotic War. The German blitzkrieg, known as Operation Barbarossa, nearly succeeded in breaking the Soviet Union in the months that followed. Caught unprepared, the Soviet forces lost whole armies and vast quantities of equipment to the German onslaught in the first weeks of the war. By November 1941 the German army had seized the Ukrainian Republic, besieged Leningrad, the Soviet Union's second largest city, and threatened Moscow itself. The war ended for the Soviet Union on 9th May 1945.

10 19th March 1944

Hungary was occupied by the German forces on this day. Nazi Germany decided to take this step because it considered the reluctance of the Hungarian government to carry out the ‘final solution of the Jewish question’ and deport the Jewish population of Hungary to concentration camps as evidence of Hungary's determination to join forces with the Western Allies. By the time of the German occupation, close to 63,000 Jews (8% of the Jewish population) had already fallen victim to the persecution. On the German side special responsibility for Jewish affairs was assigned to Edmund Veesenmayer, the newly appointed minister and Reich plenipotentiary, and to Otto Winkelmann, higher S.S. and police leader and Himmler's representative in Hungary.


10 Hitlerjugend: The youth organization of the German Nazi Party (NSDAP). In 1936 all other German youth organizations were abolished and the Hitlerjugend was the only legal state youth organization. From 1939 all young Germans between 10 and 18 were obliged to join the Hitlerjugend, which organized after-school activities and political education. Boys over 14 were also given pre-military training and girls over 14 were trained for motherhood and domestic duties. After reaching the age of 18, young people either joined the army or went to work.

11 Yad Vashem

This museum, founded in 1953 in Jerusalem, honors both Holocaust martyrs and ‘the Righteous Among the Nations’, non-Jewish rescuers who have been recognized for their ‘compassion, courage and morality’.

12 Great Terror (1934-1938)

During the Great Terror, or Great Purges, which included the notorious show trials of Stalin's former Bolshevik opponents in 1936-1938 and reached its peak in 1937 and 1938, millions of innocent Soviet citizens were sent off to labor camps or killed in prison. The major targets of the Great Terror were communists. Over half of the people who were arrested were members of the party at the time of their arrest. The armed forces, the Communist Party, and the government in general were purged of all allegedly dissident persons; the victims were generally sentenced to death or to long terms of hard labor. Much of the purge was carried out in secret, and only a few cases were tried in public ‘show trials’. By the time the terror subsided in 1939, Stalin had managed to bring both the Party and the public to a state of complete submission to his rule. Soviet society was so atomized and the people so fearful of reprisals that mass arrests were no longer necessary. Stalin ruled as absolute dictator of the Soviet Union until his death in March 1953.

13 Ispolkom

After the tsar’s abdication (March, 1917), power passed to a Provisional Government appointed by a temporary committee of the Duma, which proposed to share power to some extent with councils of workers and soldiers known as ‘soviets’. Following a brief and chaotic period of fairly democratic procedures, a mixed body of socialist intellectuals known as the Ispolkom secured the right to ‘represent’ the soviets. The democratic credentials of the soviets were highly imperfect to begin with: peasants - the overwhelming majority of the Russian population - had virtually no say, and soldiers were grossly over-represented. The Ispolkom’s assumption of power turned this highly imperfect democracy into an intellectuals’ oligarchy.

14 Campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’

The campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’, i.e. Jews, was initiated in articles in the central organs of the Communist Party in 1949. The campaign was directed primarily at the Jewish intelligentsia and it was the first public attack on Soviet Jews as Jews. ‘Cosmopolitans’ writers were accused of hating the Russian people, of supporting Zionism, etc. Many Yiddish writers as well as the leaders of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee were arrested in November 1948 on charges that they maintained ties with Zionism and with American ‘imperialism’. They were executed secretly in 1952. The anti-Semitic Doctors’ Plot was launched in January 1953. A wave of anti-Semitism spread through the USSR. Jews were removed from their positions, and rumors of an imminent mass deportation of Jews to the eastern part of the USSR began to spread. Stalin’s death in March 1953 put an end to the campaign against ‘cosmopolitans’.

15 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

16 Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC)

formed in Kuibyshev in April 1942, the organization was meant to serve the interests of Soviet foreign policy and the Soviet military through media propaganda, as well as through personal contacts with Jews abroad, especially in Britain and the United States. The chairman of the JAC was Solomon Mikhoels, a famous actor and director of the Moscow Yiddish State Theater. A year after its establishment, the JAC was moved to Moscow and became one of the most important centers of Jewish culture and Yiddish literature until the German occupation. The JAC broadcast pro-Soviet propaganda to foreign audiences several times a week, telling them of the absence of anti-Semitism and of the great anti-Nazi efforts being made by the Soviet military. In 1948, Mikhoels was assassinated by Stalin’s secret agents, and, as part of a newly-launched official anti-Semitic campaign, the JAC was disbanded in November and most of its members arrested.

17 KGB

The KGB or Committee for State Security was the main Soviet external security and intelligence agency, as well as the main secret police agency from 1954 to 1991.

18 Komsomol

Communist youth political organization created in 1918. The task of the Komsomol was to spread of the ideas of communism and involve the worker and peasant youth in building the Soviet Union. The Komsomol also aimed at giving a communist upbringing by involving the worker youth in the political struggle, supplemented by theoretical education. The Komsomol was more popular than the Communist Party because with its aim of education people could accept uninitiated young proletarians, whereas party members had to have at least a minimal political qualification.

19 Doctors’ Plot

The Doctors’ Plot was an alleged conspiracy of a group of Moscow doctors to murder leading government and party officials. In January 1953, the Soviet press reported that nine doctors, six of whom were Jewish, had been arrested and confessed their guilt. As Stalin died in March 1953, the trial never took place. The official paper of the Party, the Pravda, later announced that the charges against the doctors were false and their confessions obtained by torture. This case was one of the worst anti-Semitic incidents during Stalin’s reign. In his secret speech at the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 Khrushchev stated that Stalin wanted to use the Plot to purge the top Soviet leadership.

20 Blockade of Leningrad

On September 8, 1941 the Germans fully encircled Leningrad and its siege began. It lasted until January 27, 1944. The blockade meant incredible hardships and privations for the population of the town. Hundreds of thousands died from hunger, cold and diseases during the almost 900 days of the blockade.

21 Road of Life

It was a passage across Lake Ladoga in winter during the Blockade of Leningrad. It was due to the Road of Life that Leningrad survived in the terrible winter of 1941-42.

22 Russian Revolution of 1917

Revolution in which the tsarist regime was overthrown in the Russian Empire and, under Lenin, was replaced by the Bolshevik rule. The two phases of the Revolution were: February Revolution, which came about due to food and fuel shortages during World War I, and during which the tsar abdicated and a provisional government took over. The second phase took place in the form of a coup led by Lenin in October/November (October Revolution) and saw the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks.

23 October Revolution Day

October 25 (according to the old calendar), 1917 went down in history as victory day for the Great October Socialist Revolution in Russia. This day is the most significant date in the history of the USSR. Today the anniversary is celebrated as ‘Day of Accord and Reconciliation’ on November 7.

24 Soviet Army Day

The Russian imperial army and navy disintegrated after the outbreak of the Revolution of 1917, so the Council of the People's Commissars created the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army on a voluntary basis. The first units distinguished themselves against the Germans on February 23, 1918. This day became the ‘Day of the Soviet Army’ and is nowadays celebrated as ‘Army Day’.

25 Victory Day in Russia (9th May)

National holiday to commemorate the defeat of Nazi Germany and the end of World War II and honor the Soviets who died in the war.

26 Khrushchev, Nikita (1894-1971)

Soviet communist leader. After Stalin’s death in 1953, he became first secretary of the Central Committee, in effect the head of the Communist Party of the USSR. In 1956, during the 20th Party Congress, Khrushchev took an unprecedented step and denounced Stalin and his methods. He was deposed as premier and party head in October 1964. In 1966 he was dropped from the Party's Central Committee.

27 Kolkhoz

In the Soviet Union the policy of gradual and voluntary collectivization of agriculture was adopted in 1927 to encourage food production while freeing labor and capital for industrial development. In 1929, with only 4% of farms in kolkhozes, Stalin ordered the confiscation of peasants' land, tools, and animals; the kolkhoz replaced the family farm.

28 Twentieth Party Congress

At the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1956 Khrushchev publicly debunked the cult of Stalin and lifted the veil of secrecy from what had happened in the USSR during Stalin’s leadership.

29 23rd October 1956

It designates the Revolution, which started on 23rd October 1956 against Soviet rule and the communists in Hungary. It was started by student and worker demonstrations in Budapest started in which Stalin’s gigantic statue was destroyed. Moderate communist leader Imre Nagy was appointed as prime minister and he promised reform and democratization. The Soviet Union withdrew its troops which had been stationing in Hungary since the end of World War II, but they returned after Nagy’s announcement that Hungary would pull out of the Warsaw Pact to pursue a policy of neutrality. The Soviet army put an end to the rising on 4th November and mass repression and arrests started. About 200,000 Hungarians fled from the country. Nagy, and a number of his supporters were executed. Until 1989, the fall of the communist regime, the Revolution of 1956 was officially considered a counter-revolution.

30 Prague Spring

The term Prague Spring designates the liberalization period in communist-ruled Czechoslovakia between 1967-1969. In 1967 Alexander Dubcek became the head of the Czech Communist Party and promoted ideas of ‘socialism with a human face’, i.e. with more personal freedom and freedom of the press, and the rehabilitation of victims of Stalinism. In August 1968 Soviet troops, along with contingents from Poland, East Germany, Hungary and Bulgaria, occupied Prague and put an end to the reforms.

31 Jewish Pale of Settlement

Certain provinces in the Russian Empire were designated for permanent Jewish residence and the Jewish population was only allowed to live in these areas. The Pale was first established by a decree by Catherine II in 1791. The regulation was in force until the Russian Revolution of 1917, although the limits of the Pale were modified several times. The Pale stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, and 94% of the total Jewish population of Russia, almost 5 million people, lived there. The overwhelming majority of the Jews lived in the towns and shtetls of the Pale. Certain privileged groups of Jews, such as certain merchants, university graduates and craftsmen working in certain branches, were granted to live outside the borders of the Pale of Settlement permanently.

32 Gorbachev, Mikhail (1931- )

Soviet political leader. Gorbachev joined the Communist Party in 1952 and gradually moved up in the party hierarchy. In 1970 he was elected to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, where he remained until 1990. In 1980 he joined the politburo, and in 1985 he was appointed general secretary of the party. In 1986 he embarked on a comprehensive program of political, economic, and social liberalization under the slogans of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring). The government released political prisoners, allowed increased emigration, attacked corruption, and encouraged the critical reexamination of Soviet history. The Congress of People’s Deputies, founded in 1989, voted to end the Communist Party’s control over the government and elected Gorbachev executive president. Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party and granted the Baltic states independence. Following the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991, he resigned as president. Since 1992, Gorbachev has headed international organizations.

33 Perestroika (Russian for restructuring)

Soviet economic and social policy of the late 1980s, associated with the name of Soviet politician Mikhail Gorbachev. The term designated the attempts to transform the stagnant, inefficient command economy of the Soviet Union into a decentralized, market-oriented economy. Industrial managers and local government and party officials were granted greater autonomy, and open elections were introduced in an attempt to democratize the Communist Party organization. By 1991, perestroika was declining and was soon eclipsed by the dissolution of the USSR.

34 Solzhenitsyn, Alexander (1918-)

Russian novelist and publicist. He spent eight years in prisons and labor camps, and three more years in enforced exile. After the publication of a collection of his short stories in 1963, he was denied further official publication of his work, and so he circulated them clandestinely, in samizdat publications, and published them abroad. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970 and was exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974 after publishing his famous book, The Gulag Archipelago, in which he describes Soviet labor camps.

35 Iron Curtain

A term popularized by Sir Winston Churchill in a speech in 1946. He used it to designate the Soviet Union’s consolidation of its grip over Eastern Europe. The phrase denoted the separation of East and West during the Cold War, which placed the totalitarian states of the Soviet bloc behind an ‘Iron Curtain’. The fall of the Iron Curtain corresponds to the period of perestroika in the former Soviet Union, the reunification of Germany, and the democratization of Eastern Europe beginning in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

36 Keep in touch with relatives abroad

The authorities could arrest an individual corresponding with his/her relatives abroad and charge him/her with espionage, send them to concentration camp or even sentence them to death.

36 Struggle against religion

The 1930s was a time of anti-religion struggle in the USSR. In those years it was not safe to go to synagogue or to church. Places of worship, statues of saints, etc. were removed; rabbis, Orthodox and Roman Catholic priests disappeared behind KGB walls.

37 Hesed

Meaning care and mercy in Hebrew, Hesed stands for the charity organization founded by Amos Avgar in the early 20th century. Supported by Claims Conference and Joint Hesed helps for Jews in need to have a decent life despite hard economic conditions and encourages development of their self-identity. Hesed provides a number of services aimed at supporting the needs of all, and particularly elderly members of the society. The major social services include: work in the center facilities (information, advertisement of the center activities, foreign ties and free lease of medical equipment); services at homes (care and help at home, food products delivery, delivery of hot meals, minor repairs); work in the community (clubs, meals together, day-time polyclinic, medical and legal consultations); service for volunteers (training programs). The Hesed centers have inspired a real revolution in the Jewish life in the FSU countries. People have seen and sensed the rebirth of the Jewish traditions of humanism. Currently over eighty Hesed centers exist in the FSU countries. Their activities cover the Jewish population of over eight hundred settlements.
 

Yvonne Capuano-Molho

Yvonne Capuano-Molho
Athens
Greece
Interviewer: Vivian Karagouni
Date of interview: May 2006

Mrs. Yvonne Capuano is a particularly intelligent and active woman. She is a microbiologist and her private practice is located on the same floor as the apartment she is living in.

It is located in the center of Athens, at the “Pedio tou Areos” and there she lived for many years with her husband, who passed away in 2003, and her son, who now is married. Today she is living in this apartment with a lady-companion - a house manager.

Mrs. Yvonne Capuano is a tall, impressive and chic lady who obviously is taking good care of herself. She is a modern lady with many abilities.

On top of being a successful professional, she possesses a wider education and high intellect. Her home is decorated by herself with an impressive classic taste.

Among other things in her home one can find framed embroidery, knitted by Mrs. Capuano herself, and even chairs the upholstery of which has also been knitted by her in complex and particularly difficult designs.

She is very polite and attentive and kept on asking me if I was feeling alright or if I needed anything. When we were looking at old photographs I was very impressed with the difficulty and effort she was putting in because as she said, “These are not photographs but cemeteries.”

  • My family background

I am descended from the Spanish Jewish families that came to Thessaloniki in 1492 following their expulsion by Isabella and Ferdinand 1. This was Isabella the Catholic, who was full of hatred and this is why the expulsion started in Spain and continued in Portugal and other countries.

Our Jewish race has always been persecuted. I believe that in every period there is a thorn, every time there is a different excuse, they will always find something. It does not matter, we fly away and we are always back, we are here and we will always be.

I don’t know any stories of myths about my ancestors, what I know is that when they arrived in Greece, which was part of the Ottoman Empire at that period, they adapted to the Turkish way of life.

When the Jews went to Kastoria, which was a big fur center, they learned all about furs; it is said that the treatment of furs first came to Thessaloniki with the Jews. Many of them established their shops in the Copper place, and learned from the local craftsmen the processing of copper-braze.

They also say that when the Jews went to Istanbul to serve the sultan, as accountants, lawyers, doctors etc., the sultan said, ‘I considered Ferdinand and Isabella intelligent and couldn’t imagine that they would expel such an element from their country.’

My fathers’ father, Joseph Molho, worked for the Turks. He was responsible of a big agricultural exploitation [tsiflikas]. The same applied to my father, Raphael Molho. When my grandfather was working for the Turks he was buying a lot of jewelry for my grandmother Esther, nee Ergas.

They even told me that when Grandfather Molho died, my grandmother, who had six sons said, ‘Whichever bride will give birth to the young Joseph will have all my jewelry.’ Well my mother had two daughters, my aunt four daughters, the next aunt two daughters, the other aunt one – only daughters. It was the youngest of all, Uncle Alberto, when he returned from the concentration camps, who got married and had a son, and young Joseph was born. But Joseph came too late.

I remember my grandfather being dressed in beautiful European clothes. He was wearing a frock-coat. Grandmother Esther was also wearing European clothes, I remember she had the lob of her ear torn because once, as she was wearing earrings a young Turk grabbed it and ran away, and thus her ear was torn.

I don’t know to which school my grandfather Molho went but he spoke French, I don’t know whether he also knew how to write it.

One of my grandfather’s brothers was a very educated man. He had attended the rabbinical school [yeshivah] in Istanbul and, I think, also in Vienna. Later he became the rabbi of Kavala.

When the first racist legislation against the Jews was ordered by the Nazis, as there were also Bulgarians and Germans 2 there, they shouted for the Jews to come out and sweep the city. This uncle, the rabbi, was the first that took a broom and started sweeping.

My grandfather had many brothers, but I was very young at the time. I knew some of them but I don’t remember anything else about them.

My grandparents of the Molho side of the family, since my grandfather worked for the Turks, were always living in Turkish houses. The house I remember was located close to ‘Kamara,’ the Arch of Galerius, where many Turkish houses were situated. It had running water and a fountain in the yard, exactly as the Turks used to have.

Within the yard was a heart-shaped pond and water was coming out of it. It also had the Turkish balcony which is a covered balcony extending out of the house. That is where the women were sitting. They were not going out of the house but sitting around on this balcony where they could see what was going on in the street without being seen.

The house had two stories and I remember a big iron door at the entrance. Inside the floor was made of big marble slabs and the furniture was heavy and massive. It had also many square tables with heavy legs and many sideboards. That was what the furniture looked liked in that period. I found the same kind of furniture in the house of my mother-in-law too.

These Turkish houses had the hall and the dining room in one piece and all around were the bedrooms. When a son got married, he didn’t leave the house. He was given a bedroom of his own, and this is how the brides were living in the same house with their mothers-in-law.

My mother was living with her parents, but I remember one aunt that was living with my Molho grandparents. The other aunt was not living with her mother because her parents had left for Israel, then still Palestine.

I don’t remember if the Molho grandparents ever left Thessaloniki to go on vacation or to travel. I remember them already old. All of their children were married and had their own families.

When my grandfather Molho died in 1930, my grandmother with her daughter, Gracia, and her son-in-law went to live in an apartment in the center of the city, on Pavlou Mela Street. They were staying on the third floor; next to the place the Moskov family 3 was living.

My mother’s parents were Leon Moshe and Bienvenida, nee Florentin. My grandmother’s name means ‘welcome’ in Spanish. There were many names like that at that time.

These grandparents were also living in Thessaloniki, but they were traveling a lot. It was due to my grandfather’s job. I heard that in the beginning he had a factory producing wooden door frames, but later, because he got tired, he got a big shop selling wood and stopped producing it. It wasn’t construction wood but a specialist shop selling wood for furniture, and part of his job was to travel and visit exhibitions.

Despite the fact that he had no formal education he was very avant-garde. He was telling us that when he was young he went to school at the synagogue where they were taught to read and write not Hebrew but Ladino 4, or Judeo-Espanol, and writing in Rashi 5. I call this type of writing ‘little pieces of wood.’ At that period all the people in Thessaloniki were speaking Judeo-Espanol, it was our mother tongue.

My grandmother also knew how to write in Rashi, not with the European alphabet. When her daughter, Sylvia, went to live with her husband in Spain – they got married in 1927 and left in 1930 – my grandmother forced herself to learn also the Latin alphabet in order to be able to write letters to her daughter, who was of course speaking Judeo-Espanol, but didn’t know the Rashi writing.

My grandfather, Leon Moshe, didn’t come from a rich family, but he was a hard working man. He was telling me that when he was a boy he did many jobs and he also worked at the railways 6. I don’t know what exactly he was doing there, I never understood.

Anyhow, his supervisor was an Italian and Grandfather learned very well the Italian language. After that, and knowing Italian, he worked in a wooden frames factory belonging to an Italian and this is how he learned this business. At that period Thessaloniki was an ‘open port,’ a free trading zone, and many different nationalities were gathered there with many Italian and French businessmen.

This grandfather was fat when he was young but later this changed. I remember his eyes…  When he looked at you, you were finished…

He was always dressed elegantly. He wore European clothes and so did my grandmother. She was very coquette and fatty as was in fashion at the time. Her dresses were all embroidered and her hats had feathers. My grandfather was wearing a bow-tie and later he walked with a walking-stick. All my family wore European clothes as they were rather progressive. The only person I remember wearing traditional clothes when she left the house was the mother-in-law of the brother of my grandmother, who was visiting wearing a Kofya, a traditional headgear for Jewish women, which was all knitted with pearls.

What my mother told me is that when she was young every Passover, Pesach, and every New Year’s Eve, Rosh Hashanah, my grandfather bought for each of the kids a fez 7. Thessaloniki was the last city to be liberated from the Turks in 1913. When I see on television the recent Turkish series’ and when I visit Turkey I hear many Turkish words that I am familiar with. Words I heard from my grandfather and my father because they lived in the Ottoman Empire. For example, the word ‘kavgas’ which means fight, I thought it was a Hebrew word and recently I realized it is Turkish.

My grandfather Leon Moshe was very hard working and extremely strict. Jews were men dedicated to their family. My grandfather was the leader of his, a real ‘pater familias.’ I was watching this Turkish series on television and saying to myself, ‘This is Memik? That’s the name of the strict traditional grandfather in the series. Well, that’s my grandfather.’ Oh, he was really strict.

My grandmother Bienvenida was very good and open-hearted but also collected in front of the strict grandfather, yet it is impressive how she always managed to do what she herself wanted. My mother would say, ‘Grandmother asked to go to Spain to see Aunt Sylvia. Grandfather will never say yes.’ But of course they went to visit Sylvia in Spain.

Also, every year they went to France. You know, Thessaloniki was a cosmopolitan city, a small Paris, and it was also the Jews that were offering a particular flair to it. All Jews were civilized people; they had not lived in villages. Since they had no country of their own, as Israel didn’t exist then, they always lived in big cities. They had the particular radiation of the big cities.

I always happen to hear from friends, co-students etc., ‘I will go to my village.’ My village! Thessaloniki and later Athens were the only places I knew. And the Jews in Thessaloniki were more numerous compared to the Christian Greeks, a balance, which, of course, later changed. Thessaloniki was a city that shone. For example my grandfather and my grandmother would never go to Athens; they would go to Paris or to Vienna.

My aunt Sylvia, my mother’s sister, suffered from poliomyelitis and was handicapped. My grandfather would do whatever the doctors would tell him. One of them said, ‘Go, early in the morning, to the slaughter house and get the gall-bladder of a cow that’s just been slaughtered.

Bring it home and put the foot of the girl in it.’ They thought that this would make the nerves to operate again. And so Grandfather would take his carriage with the horses, bring the gall-bladder and put it, as a compress, on his daughter’s foot. Later, in 1914, he took her to Vienna to be treated, imagine, to Vienna in that period!

Even grandmother would go for her gynecological problems to Paris every year. Also, Grandfather would always be the first to go to the wood fairs, to Paris, to Germany etc.; he would also take my mother with him since she spoke French.

In our house, all the tapestry had been ordered by grandfather in Vienna. First came the fabric and then the walls were painted in the same color with golden leaves in blue enamel paint.

None of my grandfathers had gone to the army. It was the Turkish army and neither the Jews nor the Christians would go to the Turkish army. They would even tell the following anecdote: When children were born they would say to the local priest, ‘Father, the child is born; shall I declare it younger or older?

If I declare it older it will be too old and will not be taken to the army, if I declare it to young it will be too young to be taken to the army.’ ‘And why don’t declare the exact birth?’ ‘Is that true, can I do that?’

Or, if necessary, they would let the boys attend, for a couple of months, a priest school so that they wouldn’t be called to the army. This, of course, was valid for the Christians only, not for us. Anyhow, neither my grandfathers nor my father went to the army.

The number of Jews in Thessaloniki was quite high, sixty thousands. Jewish people were quite closely connected among themselves. During the very old days, the ones when I didn’t exist yet, the Jews were quite isolated and kept all the religious traditions, despite the fact that they were in the Diaspora. When they left Spain they locked their houses and took the key with them, as they thought they would return.

When Juan Carlos 8 came to Thessaloniki, the president of the Jewish community welcomed him in Spanish and said, ‘We speak your language, which we carried from that time and we still have our keys of those houses of ours in Spain.’

[‘Hablamos vuestra lingua que trajimos con mosotros cuanto mos huimos de España, i dainda tenemos las llaves de muestras cazas ay.’] Even today in Spain there are many names like our Jewish names as we also brought them with us from there.

Before the war, it was a world somehow secluded. Not that we didn’t have contacts with the Christians. On the contrary. You could see partnerships with one Jewish and on Christian name, and at school we were all together. In conclusion, it was a perfect adaptation.

They would even tell me, ‘Yvonne, you know our festivities better than us, and they would add, ‘Dominique, who knows when her name day may be?’ And I would answer, ‘On the 8th of January.’

Schools were closed during the Christian festivities and not ours. In conclusion, the assimilation was exceptionally high. Not that I forgot our own religion, not at all. Even if I wanted to there were my father, my mother, my grandmother etc.

  • During the war

In that period there were many synagogues 9 in Thessaloniki. I remember our synagogue, the Beit Saoul 10. It was located one bus stop away from home. It was a very beautiful synagogue on the main street, but to enter it you had to walk a long narrow yard with trees and flowers on the left and on the right side of it, and when you reached the end of this yard you entered the synagogue.

All these synagogues were destroyed during the war and now there is only one synagogue left, the ‘big synagogue’ as we call it, the ‘Monastirioton’ 11. It is the only one that wasn’t destroyed as it became a Red Cross depot. Today, this synagogue, the ‘big synagogue’ opens only for special events, however in the Modiano market there is the ‘small synagogue’ [the ‘Yad Lezicaron’] which operates normally every day.

Before the war there were many Jewish organizations. I remember the Mizrachi Club 12, which was opposite our house on Cyprus Street. They even had a football team. In its localities they organized marriages, bar mitzvahs and it operated during the big festivities.

I remember the brides, the poor ones, coming, and upon the arrival of the bride by car, and while the people were waiting, one would say, ‘Aide take the bride for another ride with the car, for who knows when will be her next use of a car.’ You see, they were poor girls, servants etc.

Marriages were also held at the Matanot Laevionim 13, which means ‘presents for the poor.’ This was a charitable center that had been erected by my uncle Jacques, my mother’s brother. In the basement they were offering, every day, free meals to the poor children, on the first floor marriages were held.

At this place the engagement ceremony as well as the marriage of my uncle Jacques took place. A very nice marriage with live music, an orchestra and all kind of things…

I don’t know what this place is used for today. However, I remember that even during the occupation, they were offering free meals to the poor people. It was close to the Mizrachi Club. During that time there also existed a mikveh but I cannot recall where it was.

There were also many Jewish schools. There was the Alliance 14, the Talmud Torah for the less wealthy, I think, and also there were the ‘Lycée’ and the private Jewish schools of Altzeh, Gatenio, and Madame Yehode. The Jews were also going to the American College 15, the German school and the Greek private schools of Schina and Valagianni. I don’t remember any other schools.

There was the ‘Association des Anciens Elèves de l’ Alliance Francaise Universelle.’

Also there were many Jewish women welfare organizations because we had a lot of poverty. There were big areas of the city occupied by poor, very poor families. Usually our servants, who were sleeping in our house, came from those areas.

We were very many Jews living in the city, spread all over it. There were no exclusive Jewish quarters. Only the very poor neighborhoods were exclusively Jewish like the ‘151’ 16, the ‘7’… The ‘151’ was located higher than Harilaou, the other was close to the First Army Camps that is higher than Vasilissis Olgas, which was a central avenue.

On top of it was the Army Avenue and higher was an area called ‘koulibas,’ which means huts. Then there was another area next to the railway station [the Baron Hirsch], which during the occupation became the transport center for the trains that took the Jews to Auschwitz. In conclusion, there were many poor Jewish neighborhoods.

One poor Jewish neighborhood called ‘Campbell’ [where approximately 220 poor Jewish families lived] had been attacked by the ‘EEE’ or ‘3E’ 17. I remember that all were scared and it was the only subject of discussion. It was a wave of anti-Semitism.

When Venizelos 18 came, he brought with him anti-Semitism to Thessaloniki. The organization ‘EEE,’ which stands for National Union Hellas, had set the neighborhood on fire 19. They all said that Venizelos was behind it.

I don’t know, but I think that in a country and city where Jews live, giving them an element of civilization, they normally should be well taken care of. Hate is not good. Hate creates hate and violence brings violence. Being soft and good with people brings positive results.

If you behave well towards someone, he will certainly behave well towards you too. We are all together in it. When people are shouting, and someone wants to say something, if he speaks in low tone, immediately the others get silent in order to listen to him. What I mean to say is that people are copying and mimicking what the majority is doing.

The Jews of Thessaloniki covered all possible professions. Many were merchants, others tanners. They were so honest among themselves that it was said they were not asking for receipts. Their word was the receipt. This was said to me by an acquaintance, Mr. Noah, who was a merchant of cotton and wool.

Until once arrived someone who cheated him a big sum, and following this negative experience, he started asking for receipts. He said, ‘I didn’t want to take receipts, it was the others that forced me to.’

Also the Jews were the ones operating the port of Thessaloniki. They worked as porters, loaders, unloaders, etc. and these are the same people that set up the operation of the Haifa port. They had a particular pack-saddle on which they loaded what they transported. They were divided in different specializations. Specialists for carrying strong boxes, others for lighter loads, and specialists for weights over a hundred and fifty kilograms

I have seen pictures of these porters in the book of Yiannis Megas, ‘Memories of the life of Jewish community of Thessaloniki 1897-1917, editions Capon, Athens 1993.’ There you can see this particular saddle they were wearing, as also the traditional dress they used [antari]. I also remember house removals executed by using a long thin cart, very big. All the house furniture was loaded on this cart and it was pulled by one or two work-horses.

I remember that there were a number of cars in the city, not many private cars as compared to the taxis. Many taxis. And tram also, for public transport. And many cobbled streets. The big avenue, Vassilisis Olgas, was cobbled. And as the tram was passing on it, it made a huge noise. There were many other cobbled streets as well as many with earth and mud.

My father, Raphael Molho, was the first of ten siblings. Second was Saoul, who was very intelligent and had a lot of humor. When there was an engagement or marriage they would all gather at the grandparents’ house. Saoul was the clown of the family.

He survived Auschwitz because he behaved the same way with the Germans. He might have said to them, “Count on me on whatever you want,’ etc. He was very funny. He would say to his mother, ‘Mama sew me a button, please.’ ‘Amen, I will sew it, go and get married.’ ‘Mother, should I get married for a single button?’ Saoul got married but left his wife and child in Auschwitz. When he returned to Thessaloniki he remarried.

Then there was Gracia who died in Auschwitz, and so did her husband. They had no children.

The fourth child was Jacques. Jacques got married before the war, to a very beautiful girl called Daisy, and went to live in France. He worked in Grenoble, and they had a daughter.

Then there was Charles who lived in Belgium before World War II. He survived Auschwitz and returned to Belgium. He had no children.

The sixth child was Dario who stayed in Thessaloniki, and was deported and murdered in Auschwitz.

Then came the twins, Lisa and Bella. Lisa died in Auschwitz with her two children, while Bella had left earlier for Israel, then Palestine. She died there in 1980.

The youngest brother, Alberto, survived Auschwitz but left there his wife and two daughters. When he returned he remarried and had a son called Joseph.

There was also Mois, who had committed suicide for romantic reasons, but I know nothing more about him.

Both my father and his brothers and sisters graduated from the German School of Thessaloniki, which was a private school. Out of my uncles four came back from the concentration camps in Germany, because they knew the German language.

Before the war, the Jews of Thessaloniki were very fond of Germany. Most families would get a ‘Schwester,’ that is, a sister/governess, in their houses from Germany. Of course this changed later….

My mother is Erietta, nee Moshe. In her family there were two sisters and two brothers, Jacques, Mario, Erietta and Sylvia. One of my uncles, Jacques Moshe, was very well known as he was the best engineer in Greece. My grandfather had brought to his home a ‘Schwester’ – Gelda was her name I believe – whose husband had died in World War I in 1914, and she was the teacher of the children at my mother’s house.

If there is a reason that my mother got out of the Haidari camp, a prison in Athens – because she was caught – as well as my grandfather, my grandmother and Uncle Jacques, it was because of the knowledge of the German language.

My mother had gone to school at the Alliance. I think that schooling lasted three years at the time. They were taught sewing, housekeeping, and then they arranged to get them married.

My mother was friends with the twin sisters of my father, Lisa and Bella. This is how she got to know my father. My father was working with his own father, and he also had his own big land, ‘tsiflic,’ from the Turks.

My grandfather constructed for my mother’s marriage in 1917 a set of very good furniture. And then came the big fire of Thessaloniki in 1917 20 and all was burned. Of course the marriage wasn’t postponed. So after the marriage my grandfather made new furniture for his daughter.

When they got married they first bought an apartment overlooking the sea like in Venice. Right in front of it, the waters were deep, so my mother used to put us in a rowboat and we were going opposite to Alexander the Great, where the waters were shallow and people were swimming, and we would also swim with our mother.

I was born in the month of June and when I was two months old, Mother must have taken me into the sea to swim. Later both my sister and myself, when we had whooping cough, and as they said that the sea would be good for us, my mother kept on taking us swimming with the boat. At this particular house there was a common yard that we shared with the apartment next door. Jews, very good people. They do not exist any more.

Also, on the other side lived Sonia Petridou, whose origins were from Russia, divorced with two children, who wasn’t on speaking terms with us. I’m not sure whether she was divorced or not, but we never saw a husband. One evening she was very sick, so her daughter Milia, who was the same age as my sister, came to us and called in the night, ‘Mrs. Errieti, Mrs. Errieti, please come.’

And my mother called the doctor and stayed next to her continuously for two days until she got well. After that Sonia told her, ‘I never thought that you Jews were like that.’ She came from Russia and it seems they had anti-Semitism there. Anyhow, after that incident they became good friends.

We left this house when I was six years old because it was very cold and my mother suffered from rheumatism. I remember we didn’t have parquet, that is wooden flooring but tarpaulin, and as the wind, the northern wind of Thessaloniki called Vardaris, was blowing, we could see the tarpaulin pieces moving. So we left that place and went to live at my grandmother’s.

Their house was also close to the sea. First there was the sea, then Queen Olga Avenue, and right after it was Cyprus Street and the Archaeological Museum Street perpendicular to Cyprus Street and Queen Olga Avenue.

The street where we lived started at Archaeological Museum Street and ended at Karaiskaki Street. The area was called ‘Pate – Phaliro’ and where it was situated, I could get out of the house, on the balcony, and see the sea right in front of me.

Cyprus Street was not a big street. It was a residential street. It had nine or ten houses, and in every house on each floor lived one family. In the house next door, which had three floors, lived three families. Only in our house, on two floors, it was just us, while normally it could have accommodated two families. We stayed in this house quite a long time, almost all our life.

The house was facing Cyprus Street, but its back part, the garage where Uncle Jacques was parking his car, was facing the street in the back, Broufa Street. In the front was the good big door, which was the door we used to enter.

However, there was another door, a smaller one, with a corridor that led to the kitchen. This is the door that the grocer used when he was bringing us our shopping.

A characteristic of this house was the quantity of honeysuckle. Honeysuckle covered the two pillars on which the door was hanging, and there was so much that sometimes we had difficulties to fully open this door. The house was dubbed ‘the house with the honeysuckle.’ In the morning, when I was leaving for school, it smelled so intensely and from such a distance that I kept its smell in my nostrils all day long.

Upon entering there was a straight surface, on the left a small garden and the marble escalator with its handrail covered with honeysuckle. The house was full of its smell. One bedroom was facing this small garden and the other two bedrooms were looking at the back port. The kitchen was facing the yard where there was also honeysuckle.

Next to the garage there was a house where some friends of ours lived. They were Jews that lived in the city of Kavala. The father was a tobacco merchant and they would come for a few days and stay at his mother’s house in Thessaloniki. I met these people later in Athens and we became good friends.

With the older brother of this family – he does not live anymore – we were playing together. He died in a car accident. Back then we were playing ball. It was not usual at all, playing ball from balcony to balcony, we could have broken window-panes, of course, so the parents would shout at us, but it was fun.

Also, this home of ours shared a common wall with the home of my grandmother’s brother, which was also a two-story house. Inside our house on the wall, next to the escalator, we had opened a big hole in the wall, like a door, and we could come and go from our home to the home of my mother’s uncle and aunt.

The uncle was called Jacob Florentin, but we called him ‘Pasha,’ which is a Turkish word, because he was very handsome. His wife was Aunt Esterina and they had five children, two boys and three girls. The oldest one, Sylvia got married at the age of 14 in Paris. She only died three years ago.

I loved her very much. The oldest son, Mevo, went to the army and the other son, Leon, was sent to Israel [then Palestine] when he was very young, to the first farm school, during the British Mandate, that was around 1933.

The second daughter, Jeanne, was the same age as my older sister. They were also sharing the same milk as both mothers took turns in breast feeding the two girls. The youngest one, Dolly, was two or three years younger than me, so we were growing up all together.

Each Sunday we were playing ‘tombola.’ I still remember the pieces an when it was piece 22 my uncle would shout, ‘Ducklings, suckling,’ and when it was the 11, ‘Wood nails, wood nails.’ Wood nails were those small thin wooden nails used to repair high quality shoes.

I remember my mother and Mrs. Soli and Mrs. Regina playing cards in the afternoons. Mother had many friends, who she knew through Grandmother, as Grandmother also liked to play cards and they were gathering at her place to play. Father didn’t know and never played cards. Neither did Grandfather. But Grandmother did, she liked it. She was a gambler.

Our house was a family home. Of course, with the many brothers my father had, we organized big dinners on the holidays. It was a custom at those dinners to have ‘uevos enchaminados,’ eggs cooked in the oven. We put them in the oven all night, as today we do with a casserole.

We cover the bottom of the casserole with dry onion leaves, tea, coffee, pepper and salt and then we put a layer of eggs and then again onions etc. and again add some olive oil and we let them boil for six or seven hours.

These eggs come out brown on the outside, and brownish like marble inside and have a special taste. These eggs were normally prepared on the high holidays such as Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, but even on ordinary days, as to some they are irresistible.

Another custom we had on Pesach and Rosh Hashanah was to exchange visits. My father would visit all the family and all the relatives would visit us with their children and we exchanged eggs. We would visit the other homes and return with eggs in our pockets. This was the custom.

I also remember that on Yom Kippur we were supposed to fast. My mother would bring us chestnuts, as it was their season, and would say, ‘Children, if you get hungry eat the chestnuts but do it in secret.’ So my friends Mendi Hassid, myself and Dolly from the next house would sit secretly together, clean the chestnuts, powder them with sugar and eat them. We would call them ‘the grandfather.’ I can’t remember why.

At home the language we were speaking was Spanish, or Judeo-Espanol, but also French and Greek. My parents, however, when they wanted to share a secret would use German, which we didn’t understand.

We also had a servant at home, to help with the housework. The only thing she never did was to cook, as this was the job of my mother and my grandmother. The ladies would cook as they didn’t do much more. They didn’t go out either; they would cook in big stoves like fireplaces with the ash falling down.

In the bathroom we had a water-heater operating with wood and in the winter we would heat the rooms with beautiful wood burning porcelain stoves, which were manufactured in Vienna. We had two such stoves, one of them was very big and you could lift the cover to heat cheese pies and other things.

At that time we would eat mostly pies. The traditional meal, even on Friday evening, was a pie. Cheese pie, eggplant pie, etc. One of these two stoves is now at my niece’s house.

When I was young I was taken care of by my grandmother and my mother. My father was very good but rather strict. As for me, I was very energetic, a monster!

The Jews of Thessaloniki were good husbands and family men. Even now I hear Christians saying, ‘I would very much like a Jew as husband for my daughter.’ The importance of family was highly appreciated by the Jews of Thessaloniki. The men would become good husbands and the women good mothers.

Now, of course, things have changed, as there has been a lot more elastic attitudes, but in that period we were living all together; my grandmother Molho, for example, would certainly pay a visit to our place at least twice a week.

In that period there was no telephone. It is worth mentioning that when Grandmother wanted to pay a visit to a relative, we would have to send a person, usually the grocer who was carrying our shopping, to pass the news for the forthcoming visit. There was no other way.

We installed our telephone at home in 1934. I remember once we called from Thessaloniki to Athens, as my uncle, Jacques, the engineer, also had an office in Athens and was traveling a lot. He had many construction sites in Thessaloniki like the Macedonian Studies building, the Mediterranean Hotel and others, many, many. So once we called Athens – via a telephone center and an operator, of course.

I was eight years old at the time and I remember that all the adults were very impressed. My mother and grandmother would say to everyone, ‘We did it, we talked with Athens.’ The also wrote about this news to Aunt Sylvia in Spain.

What a celebration! At that time, the most someone could do was to send a telegram, and the telegram was mostly used in order to inform people unexpected – of sudden news, like a death, an engagement, etc.

My father, I remember, would read French books. My mother didn’t read very much. They would both go to the Mizrachi club which was opposite our house and would be open for example on Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah. As for myself I wouldn’t go with them to the synagogue, we didn’t go very often. I remember going many times to the Beit Saoul synagogue for marriages though.

My parents were not involved with political parties as politics didn’t enter our house. Of course they always were conservatives, never leftists. I believe the only club my father would go is Alliance and this is, by itself, impressive as he had graduated from the German school.

When I was a kid I played a lot. Always with boys. We used to play ‘thieves and policemen’ for example, in our second home on Cyprus Street. I was always playing the policeman and of course my knees were continuously wounded. At the Hirsch Hospital 21, now it’s called the Hippocratio Hospital, they knew me very well as  I was a frequent visitor, once to have the one leg stitched, next time the other etc.

In that period we were frequently going to Aidipsos for baths, since the hot springs there were considered very healthy. We would first go by boat to Volos. The boat would stop at the Volos port for loading and we would go for a walk, using a small train, and then we would return to the boat, when it was loaded, and it would then take us to Aidipsos. There was no other way of going there at that time. Upon arrival there, the porter would come to carry our belongings and we would walk to the hotel.

In Thessaloniki we didn’t go to restaurants, we would normally stay at home, while my parents would rarely go the movies or to an evening party organized by an uncle. It was a rather conservative family life and there were almost no restaurants. I remember one restaurant called ‘Olympus-Naoussa.’

To the movies we were going quite frequently in Thessaloniki. Many cinemas, after the film, would also have theatrical performances. There  was the Apollo [at the eastern port of the city], the Alexander the Great [a music hall – night club by the sea at 62, Queen Olga Avenue]. I only remember these two.

I remember my mother saying to everyone that she would go to the theater to see ‘Dybbuk’ by An-ski 22, and she went to see it twice with my father.

Alexander the Great was by the sea, where we were going to swim. As there was no mixed swimming then, boys were swimming with boys and girls with girls. During the summer, Alexander the Great had also a stage.

Many famous actors and actresses, all the big names, would come to perform, like Hero Hatza and others whose names I don’t remember. When I grew up and came to live in Athens, when I saw them, in local theater performances, I recognized them, as I had seen them before in Thessaloniki, but had not kept their names in mind. Hero Hatzas, [Kyriacos] Mavreas, and many others.

They played ‘Les deux orphelines,’ [by A. Ph. Dennery, 1897]. I was insistent, asking my mother continuously, to take me to see it but she refused. Finally she gave in and took me to see it, and I was crying throughout the duration of the play, as I remember.

In Thessaloniki at that time there were no theatrical groups or actors, but theatrical companies would visit the city as part of their tour. This is happening today too, theatrical tours to Thessaloniki. Mesologgitis would come to play and he would make us laugh very much. I don’t remember other theaters, only these two.

I also remember, Palace 23, at the old quay, which was a cinema, and so was Ilysia. There was also the Pathé, which was very close to where we lived in Phaliron and Constantinidi Street. The street has this name as earlier the Constantinides School was located there. Today the School of the Blind and a baby nursery are in its place.

Very close was also the French nursery school called ‘The children of the Lycée.’ I went there for a year because it was very close to our house at the Constantinidis bus station.

For elementary school I went to the Jewish school in order to acquire the principles. We had various lessons, religion too. We learned about Ruth, the sacrifice of Abraham, the fat and the thin cows. Everything was taught in the Greek language, but two hours a week we also had Hebrew. We also had French every day as this language was spoken as frequently as Greek.

Out of my teachers I remember Miss Paula who was teaching us Greek. Later, when I was in the third or fourth grade, she was appointed by the state and left. We also had house keeping, needlecraft, drawing, painting, things like that. We also had history of the Greek Revolution, Composition and all the other lessons.

Only in the morning we would say our own prayer, ‘Shema Israel.’ I remember our Hebrew teacher, who had a wooden ruler, and when he asked something we didn’t know he hit us with the ruler straight on the nail.

After the elementary school I took exams to go to the gymnasium, the secondary school.

I went to the 2nd Girls’ Gymnasium which was a public school. It was a very good school, not only in terms of teaching. There were many girls from good families, but also poor girls like the daughters of the launderers and others... We had classmates from all sort of origins.

I was a good student and never had problems with my professors. After Rika Coulandrou, I was the second of my class with regards to my academic excellence. Rika is also a microbiologist and now lives in Psychiko. Her marital name is now Constandinidou.

After many years she told me that while at school she had felt anxiety that I would surpass her, because we were almost equal in performance.

I had another classmate, Kate Palaisti, who was a niece of the great singer Marica Palaisti; I remember her very well as she always had a runny nose. This Kate I met many, many years later in New York through my nephew Laki Reccanati, who lives there. It is a long story… And I met some other classmates again too, like Danai, whom I found quite recently, and it was a happy occasion as I remembered the past.

I also remember best friend Vouli, who got married to Bassias, a radiologist in Thessaloniki. Another friend of mine is the daughter of the doorkeeper, not a close friend but a friend. She also got married to a very good doctor in Heracleio Athens, or South Patissia.

We talk on the phone from time to time. This is the right thing to do, that is, to keep in touch and be on ridded neither in your thinking nor on your judgment.

I have to admit that as a trained doctor I never took notice getting into a poor or rich house. I never made a distinction. I always looked at the person, what he or she was never mattered and was left out, and this is how things should be. I did the same thing with my son, exactly as I had been taught by my grandfather.

I remember in first and second grade of the gymnasium we went to the parade. We went next to the beach, where there’s a street for cars now, while at that time it was only for walking – 25th March Street.

We had a pass for the bus, paying half the fare, we would pay for a semester or a whole year, so that we didn’t have to carry money for transport but just had to show our pass to the bus-driver.

Opposite our school was the 5th Gymnasium for Boys and there were many handsome boys there. As for me, I was rather young, but we had the intelligent ones, the ‘vivid’ as we called them. What vivid, it is crap. They were only looking in the eyes, this was the vividness. So as we were passing in front of the boys’ gymnasium and going towards the waterfront the boys would call us, ‘One two, one two. Chest out, the first one, chest out.’

Except for school I was also attending the music school and the English institute. The institute was at Aristotelous Place, where we were going by tram and when we finished we were together going to Flocaki, a patisserie which started in Thessaloniki and today is a chain all over Greece, to eat a pastry. Back then there was the Flocas and the little Floca, the Flocaki as we called it, which was located in a small street, Agiou Minas Street, in the center of Thessaloniki.

remember some particular pastries called ‘Plaisir des Dames’ which were round. Actually it was a roll with chocolate outside and cream chocolate filling. The sweets at Flocas were rather small as compared to other more popular sweet-makers whose sweets were huge.

I was very impressed when I went to the United States, to Astoria, the Greek center, where I got into a pastry shop called ‘The White Tower.’ It reminded me very much those neighborhood pastry shops with pastries as big as a plate, while at Flocas pastries were small and elegant.

The music school was at the grounds of the International Fair of Thessaloniki 24. It was easy to go there on foot. I recall that when I started going there, my mother knew every detail of what I was doing there and I kept wondering how my mother managed to learn everything in detail.

Once, while visiting my Molho grandmother, I saw Aunt Gracia talking to Mr. Karantsis, who was the director of the music school. He was living next to my grandmother and aunt, and then I knew how my mother was so well informed. I was about nine years old at that time. Those years were very good, I also had friends from the music school and my teacher there was Mrs. Emily, who was a Jew.

And later I was a member of the mixed chorus of Mr. Floros and once we sang at the Palace theater house that song which says ‘Alleluia.’ Kaufman sang solo the ‘Ave Maria’ and we accompanied her. At that time there were two piano schools; one was Margarite’s and the other Kaufman’s, who was a German Jew. The Kaufman that sang solo was his daughter. The performance was very beautiful, and I still have vivid memories of it.

We even got an award. Where is this award? Well, we left [during the Holocaust] and what did we find afterwards? Nothing! We had given things to people to hide for us, and when we returned my mother would see the same things at their houses but they would say, ‘There is nothing left, they took everything from us.’ What to say.

The best of all was that we were girl scouts. Every Saturday we gathered at the YMCA. The place where recently, in September 2005, there was a big fire. I was a girl scout and we were all divided in four groups, the leader and the deputy leader. The group I was in was called ‘Amarantos.’ We were six girl scouts and our chief was Lena Zanna, the mother of Samaras, a Greek politician and granddaughter of Delta 25.

How much did I wish for Saturday to arrive. We did a lot of things. We played detection games; we did our good deed every month, carrying flour and sugar to a poor family. Small things, but they wanted to teach to us how to help, to offer help to our fellow humans.

My clover-leaf had the number 124. 124, I was on the second team that Mrs. Zanna, the daughter of Mrs. Delta, was the trustee of and so was Mrs. Syndika. I was always carrying this clover-leaf with me, for it to bring me good luck, in all my examinations at university. The clover-leaf and a teddy bear.

As I mentioned before, my father was strict. My parents didn’t permit me to go to parties. Right opposite our house was ‘Radio Tsiggiridi.’ This was the first radio station in Thessaloniki, once I was invited to a party there by the son of the Tsiggiridi family.

My father refused to give me permission. This same son, Tsiggiridi, I met a few years ago in Athens, at a tea party he had at his place. That’s when I remembered this little episode.

My father also didn’t give me permission to go for an excursion with the girl scouts. They had planned to go to Lake Doirani. I went to bed early and left the blinds open so that the morning sun would wake me up.

However, my father came in at night and shut the blinds. That’s how I woke up late and missed the excursion. You see, we were not going on big excursion at school, so I had been looking forward to this one with very high expectations.

At school we were going for walks, to Aretsou. Once with the girl scouts we even went to Perea. I spent long hours in the sun and got sunburned, I returned home red from the sunburn. I was a very energetic child, a monster; if I had been in my father’s place, I would have been as strict as him.

However, I was permitted to go to the movies. Uncle Dario, who later died in Auschwitz, had a cinema of his own. So he gave me a permit, a ‘passe partout,’ to get in the cinema free of charge.

This way I would take with me a friend and we would get in without paying. At 2 o’clock the screening started. When I could, I would go at 4 o’clock, that is from 4 to 6, but my mother always knew. I had her permission as at that time I was only 14 years old.

I didn’t graduate from the gymnasium in Thessaloniki, as it closed during the war and I came here, to Athens. After the schools opened we covered three school years in three months so that we wouldn’t lose out on time. I really was ‘illiterate,’ all those lessons I read later on my own, and following those three months of schooling I got into the medical school in 1943.

At the declaration of the war with the Italians 26 we were in Thessaloniki. I remember that despite the fact that I was a young girl, I went to the hospital and asked to work there as a volunteer. As I had won the first award of the girl scouts in first aid I had the impression to have won the entire world.

When the doctor saw me, a girl that young, well, what could he tell me? He said, ‘We want volunteers, but for the time being we are not that desperate and when we will really need you we will inform you.’ And I was left in deep sorrow to return home.

I said to myself, now with the schools closed, unemployment etc. what can I do? So I learned how to knit and started going to the rabbi’s wife with another 15 ladies to knit pullovers for the army. In the beginning I knitted straight but later I also learned to knit with five needles for gloves and seamless socks, so that they would be smooth to the skin.

When the Italians declared the war, bombings started. Our houses, which were made of stone, were not that strongly built and couldn’t survive a bombing. So we decided to build an air raid shelter. This shelter was on the lower floor.

It was a corridor that led from the servant’s room to the kitchen, and this door we closed, my uncle put reinforced concrete cement and I don’t know what else. The people living next door were also coming to this shelter. In order to deal with our fear my parents would say, ‘We have no fear because if the bomb falls at the front side of the shelter we will come out from the back side.’ I really think that had a bomb fell upon us everything would have come down. My aunt would not come, as she had moved to a house in front of the sea.

With the bombings we decided to come to Athens in 1941. My grandfather, my mother and myself. Especially since during the summer, while we were at Aidipsos, happened the incident with the navy ship ‘Elli,’ which was bombed and sunk.

My grandmother was already in Athens, at my uncle Mario’s, as she had decided not to go to Paris for her yearly gynecological treatment, but chose Athens instead. She had even taken my sister with her. This way we all met here, in Athens.

When we left for Athens from Thessaloniki, it was during the Albanian war, and the trains were carrying the army, so we took a bus. It was grandfather, my mother and myself. It was an old bus with 16 seats, and we got into it, twenty persons, Jews as well as Christians.

The Germans had not arrived yet. We left early one Tuesday morning in March, and we arrived in Athens on Friday in the afternoon. It took us over three days for such a short trip.

It was then that a small earthquake shook Larissa and our driver almost fell asleep on the steering wheel. They would wake him up and shout at him, so that he wouldn’t fall asleep, but they insisted that he wouldn’t stop at Larissa due to the tremor. Thursday night we slept in Thiva, in a hotel full of bugs and fleas.

Early on Friday morning we heard the sirens as the city was bombarded, and we left and it took us five hours to reach Athens. Can you imagine it, five hours to Athens from Thiva? At the end of our trip we saw the Acropolis and couldn’t believe it in our joy.

And another thing: we had paid four or five golden sovereigns per person for the whole trip, and all during this trip I was traveling on my mother’s knees. I don’t remember how many ‘kokorakia, small roosters’ I swallowed during this trip – this was the word we used for aspirins.

When we arrived in Athens, we were accommodated at my Uncle Mario’s place, who lived on Ploutarchou Street in Kolonaki, from March to September. Uncle Jacques was staying on the top floor, the penthouse, on Kriezotou Street, but it was a very small place. In April the Germans entered and occupied Athens, and they set up camp on Ploutarchou Street.

At that point in time the racist legislation had not been passed yet, so we had no problem. We even talked on the phone with my father in Thessaloniki. He wouldn’t come to Athens. He would say, ‘I have my job to take care of, my brothers too, we will see, I will come later.’

We stayed here, in Athens, and made two big efforts to arrange for my father to come here: once with a boat owner and once with the help of a policeman. Unfortunately he was arrested in a roadblock two hours before departing for Athens. He was taken to Auschwitz and never came back.

In April we rented a furnished apartment at Ypsilantou 41 and Marasli Street, which was very close to my uncle Mario’s on Ploutarchou and Ypsilandou Street. It was a small apartment with an entrance, a bathroom to the right and the sitting room and a dining room.

The kitchen could be shut out and didn’t look like kitchen. It was the first time that I saw such a thing, like a sliding cupboard that would shut the kitchen out. The bedroom that my grandparents were using had a balcony looking out on Ypsilantou Street.

We were the only ones that also had a stove and when it was very cold the neighbors would come to warm up. On the floors there were carpets. In front of my grandparents’ room was a storage space under the floor, where we would put our suitcases etc. In this storage space I was saved later.

My sister had been hiding with the Karounidis family, who were ship-owners, while I went to a house in Pangrati to baby-sit a child. However, I didn’t stay as the man of the family behaved with what we describe today as sexual harassment, and this is why I left within a week and returned home. After I left, I stayed at my aunt’s so that I could be with my cousin May.

This is when my uncle learned about the new racist legislation, so we left and hid in Agia Paraskevi. There, there was a farm, but as we were afraid that the local people had understood that we were hiding, we left and went to stay at Tavros. The house was owned by the aunt of Koula, the Christina fiancée of the son of Nissim, who lived in Paris.

But even there, my uncle recognized somebody working at a neighboring farm, who used to work at a grocery shop in Kolonaki, and so we were forced to move from there too. I went back to our apartment, my uncle hid close to the Acropolis and my aunt with her daughter May, who had finished German studies in Dresden, Germany, found a job as an in-house teacher of German for the child of some lady. As for myself, I once again had to find a place to hide.

My uncle Mario had a friend called Aristotelis Stamatiadis, who was working at the Ionian Popular Bank. He sent me to a friend of his in Ekali, I remember I went in the morning to the bank wearing a scarf and looking down so that nobody would recognize me.

Mr. Stamatiadis took me to Mr. Telemachos Apostolpoulos, the bank manager. He died recently, at the age of 104, and he was included on the list of the Righteous Among the Nations 27 by Yad Vashem 28.

His sister, Toula, was the secretary of the National Bank manager, but she had been transferred to the office of Archbishop Damaskinos 29. Damaskinos was a ‘shelter,’ protecting whatever you could imagine: communists, New Zealanders, who had fought with Australians and Greeks against the Germans, when Germany invaded Greece, Jews etc.

My G-d how much he helped us [the interviewee starts crying]. I put myself in his position and ask myself would I risk as much as Archbishop Damaskinos did or Toula, or Memis, Telemachos. It happened because we were facing the same enemy, or maybe it is because we Greeks are great souls.

This is how I went to live in Ekali and I had with me the Physics books, as this was the only subject left from my first year’s exams. The professors was Mr. Hondros, he was a special man with great courage.

On 25th March, the national holiday, when we were not in hiding yet, he had gathered a group of us, students, and we went to the Hero’s Tomb to crown it, with a garland made of grass and herbs. We also sang the national anthem, and when the Italians realized what was going on they came after us and hit us in order to force us to scatter.

This house in Ekali was a three-story villa belonging to Mrs. Apostolopolou’s daughter who, in order to keep away the Germans, who could have requisitioned it, somehow managed to get a medical diagnosis, saying that she was suffering from psychological neurological problems and that it was me who would be occupied as governess there. There was also a gardener and a young girl for doing small jobs. It was good there.

Opposite there were some houses, where another Jewish family was hiding, with two children, but they weren’t very smart, as every Sunday they had a party. Once I had heard the lady talking in the street to her children and saying, ‘This is not possible, these kids, I am unable to get used to your new names!’ That’s how I knew they were Jews.

However the gardener, who at the same time was like a porter, going from one house to the other, he knew all the details and spilled them out, and he informed us about the party and what sort of meatballs the people next door cooked.

Mrs. Apostolopoulou would always say to him, ‘And what do we care about all these details Kostas?’ And then he informed us that the Antoniadou family were Jews in reality and their last name was Levi and this was a piece of information given to him very confidentially.

Throughout the occupation I very rarely went to see my mother. On 27th January I went to see them. When I visited I would normally sleep at Mrs. Maria Papadimouli’s place, next door.

My family lived at 41 Ypsilandtou Street, while they stayed at No. 39. Mr. Papadimoulis was a pharmacist at the Evagelismos hospital, while Mrs. Maria was making orthopedic corsets. They were good people and neighbors and, as I said, when I was visiting my family I stayed for the night at their place.

On that particular night of 27th January, my mother told me, ‘Yvonne, there is a party in the neighborhood tonight, there will be people coming and going and you will certainly be seen. And of course they will ask why you are here, so why go? You will stay here.’

I went to make my bed and Mother told me, ‘Leave it, we will share the same bed, we will talk and hold each other.’ I agreed. That was the night that the diplomatic relations between Argentina and Germany broke down. My family were Argentinean subjects but with faulty papers. At midnight the bell rang.

The sixth sense of my mother saved us. Had I been on a bed by myself, when the Germans came looking into our house, even if I had had the time to hide, a used, lukewarm bed would have given me away. This way we rushed, opened the storage space under the floor, I hid in it and my mother put the carpet on top.

My family didn’t open the door immediately in order to give me time to hide my belongings. And so, when the Germans came in, who in the meantime had rung many other doorbells, they didn’t find me. I stayed in this hiding place for two and a half hours, and throughout this time I was praying silently.

That night, the Germans had gone to other apartments too. First they went to Admiral Petroheilos, who was new to the block of apartments and didn’t know us. Then they went to Mr. Litsos as Mr. Petroheilos sent them to him. After him they came to us: ‘Are you the Moshe family? You are under arrest as the diplomatic relations between Argentina and Germany have broken down.’

They went into my grandparents’ room, stepping on the top cover of the hiding place I was in, and I could hear their steps: ‘Bam boom, bam boom, made their boots!’ At some moment I heard my grandmother asking, ‘Where will you take us?’ and he replied, ‘Tonight to a palace and tomorrow to Germany.’

This ‘tomorrow to Germany’ was actually the Haidari concentration camp where they stayed for seven months. I also remember the Germans telling them, ‘Whatever you have with you, furs, jewelry etc. take it with you as it is cold out there.’

My mother pretended to wear some gloves and as she was wearing some rings, she threw them into the gloves and saved them, and as she had also her jewelry, she was informing me, and so did my grandfather, in Spanish of what exactly they were doing. ‘Yvonne, here I place some papers’…and this and that… and mother said, ‘All the jewelry is in the little beige bag of mine, and I put it behind the bathtub.’

Anyhow, they took grandfather and grandmother. ‘Ai, Ai,’ I thought to myself, ‘they are going to hit my mother.’ But it was not like that. They had come with a small car, a Fiat 500, so they couldn’t fit in all of them. So they left my mother with the interpreter. This Greek ruffian, the traitor who was speaking Greek!

As my mother got into the room she saw him opening the drawers of a commode. ‘What are you doing there,’ shouted my mother, ‘you didn’t come to search our place, you came to arrest us, so shut it immediately.’

Mother had her own ways, you see. And then I heard mother calling out to the neighbor, ‘Mrs. Maria, the three of us are leaving, so please keep an eye on the apartment.’ Mrs. Maria, of course, knew very well that I was in there. Anyhow, I waited for an hour and I heard steps on the escalator.

It was Mr. Litsos, the landlord, who was coming down … the staircase was wooden. He was fond of Germans as he had studied in Germany and worked for the Germans. He went out to see the German stamp outside the house. Earlier I had heard my mother saying that after stamping the house, they would also cut the power.

I waited, and waited for Litsos to go and came out of my hiding place with great difficulty, as it had been stuck from the Germans walking on it. I came out like a snake and was still scared that they would see me. I got dressed in the dark, because I was afraid there might be a German guard outside the house.

Opposite our place lived a girl whose father was English and her mother was German. This way they had very good relations with both the English and the Germans. So I went to her and told her, “could I please bring you some stuff for hiding”?

My mother had a suitcase, this suitcase had been brought from Thessaloniki and it was full of things, my sister’s dowry, and what not. So I took the suitcase and without opening the door, it was the basement, I got out the window with the suitcase.

Earlier the Germans had insisted to lock the door leading to the balcony as it looked onto Ypsilandou Street and my grandfather had said, ‘I will do it,’ and he locked it and then quickly unlocked it again and said to them, ‘Now the house is properly locked and here is the key, which I give to you.’ And in Spanish he added, for me to hear, ‘The door is open, so you will jump from the balcony.’

So I came out of the kitchen window and went to the girl next door, who had already agreed to accept the things. I left the suitcase and went to bring more stuff and when I returned I found all my things outside, and the girl informing me that her mother was afraid that ‘if the Germans would come to search they will think we are dealers of stolen goods.’,

In short that they cannot accept them. So I responded OK, and took all these thing and gave them to Mrs. Maria. Well, at some point we moved from that place, Mrs. Maria never gave them back to us, what to do.

I stayed at Mrs. Maria’s up to six in the morning and left. I took Ypsilandu Street, then Ploutarchou and wanted to inform my sister that the family had been caught. At Ploutarchou Street, to the right, were the ‘Goblet’ is now, was a bakery that had a telephone. At that period all bakers were very severe. Anyhow I informed my sister and went back to Ekali where I was usually hiding.

My sister was issued with a Christian identity card as [Angelos] Evert 30, the [Athens] police chief, had given to everyone false papers. I don’t know how many golden sovereigns the false papers cost.

Later, when I went to the Fix family I learned details about the location of my mother and my grandparents. All these details we learned from Soeur Hélène, a nun who frequently came to the Fix family as they were helping us. They would send food to the people in hiding etc. and she had been allowed to enter the Haidari camp and this is how she learned that my mother was there.

My mother had learned about me from a friend of my sister. She arranged to escape and leave for the Middle East. Many went to the Middle East at that time. However, the guy who was paid the golden sovereigns to let them go betrayed them so they were caught, taken back to the Haidari camp and finally were sent to Auschwitz where she was killed.

Her name was Daisy Saltiel, and she was married to Carasso. When they first caught them they were taken to Haidari camp. Since Daisy was in touch with my sister, she learned what happened to me and this is how my mother learned it too.

For long months my mother would wait every midnight, when the police van would arrive and she would climb up to look out from the small window high up in her cell to see if they were unloading my sister or me. It also was from Daisy that she learned that I had come out of the hiding place under the floor and was safe.

In the neighborhood where I was staying, there was a guy called Spanopoulos, who had rented a house there and was occupied with gardening and who, during the winter, was occupied with delivering heating carbon. It seems that in February the people next door didn’t have the money to pay for the carbon and he betrayed them to the Germans.

Some day in February, maybe a month after they had caught my mother, they came to knock at my door: a German, a Greek ruffian and a translator. When I opened, the Greek asked me where Spanopoulos stayed. I told him.

Normally I should have recognized the fat guy, as he was the same that had come to arrest my family at our place in Ploutarchou. However, at that moment I didn’t think anything bad, I must have had some sort of peculiar reaction, hit by the February sun, and I thought of nothing bad. I said to myself, they may want to confiscate something.

Five minutes later comes the gardener and tells me, ‘Ioanna, the Germans are at the Levi’s place, they are hitting them and telling them that if they betray the other Jews hiding here they will leave their children alone.’ I cut him short and ask him, ‘And what do I care about it, Kostas?’ The Levi family didn’t betray me; it was the Christian servant who had been taking care of the kids all their lives, who betrayed me.

So I leave the house and go on foot to the other side of Ekali, phoned my sister and asked her to find Apostolopoulos and inform them on what had happened. She didn’t find them and upon returning I found Mrs. Maria out of control: ‘Oh what did my son do to me.’ And things like that and that the Germans are looking for me. I went into the room and when I tried to get out I realized she had locked me in, so I got out through the balcony.

I returned to the same grocery shop with the telephone and called again my sister who had managed to get in touch with Apostolopoulos. She informed me that I should leave immediately. I don’t know where I found the courage, but I returned to the house, collected my belongings and left.

As the night was approaching and the buses were not that frequent, I went through the meadow, after that to the public road and there I asked a passing van to give me a lift to Athens where, supposedly, my sister was giving birth.

So I returned back home and once again they found me another job, not as a servant but as a slave. The husband had lost a big fortune, he was suffering from neurasthenia and he was sleeping with a bayonet in his hand. The house was also rather big, and the work there was very hard. I stayed until May. Then they found me another job as a chambermaid, cook and child minder of two kids.

On 18th May I presented myself to the Fix family, opposite Zapeio, but we immediately left to go to their farm in Magoufana [today Pefki]. I had a very nice time with them and we are still friends. They even gave me a false identity card, from the ones that Evert was issuing. My false name was Ioanna Marinopoulou.

My mother, while she was in Haidari, was a needlewoman. As she knew how to make clothes, all the girls of the Athens high society who were with the resistance, would come to my mother and say, ‘Mrs. Molho, give us something to sew.’ And she would give them a button here, a fastener there.

You see, in the morning, the Germans would empty the Jewish houses from clothing and in the evening they would bring these clothes to Haidari, to be repaired and then sent to Germany to be used by them.

Even my uncle Jacques Moshe was taken to Haidari and immediately made to work as an engineer. My grandfather in 1940 was 65-70 years old, I don’t remember exactly. Since my uncle was an engineer he took his father to work for him as an office hand, to have him close to him as he was old. He took him as an office hand in jail too. They stayed there for seven months and were liberated on 14th September 1944.

I remember that day very clearly. It was the day of the Holy Cross, 14th September, I had taken the kids, two and four years old, to Zapeion for a walk and when I returned home Mrs. Fix told me, ‘Ioanna, please sit down. Your mother and grandfather telephoned.’ ‘Are they alive?’ ‘Of course they are alive. They came out today.

As soon as the Germans left, the gates were opened and they came out. They were all put in a van and they unloaded them at Omonia Square.’ ‘And where is mother?’

The house at Ypsilantou Street had been rented. However, Uncle Jacques had built a block of apartments at Academias and Amerikis Street. Starting from Omonia he went to his place at Kriezotou Street and he put up my family in an apartment in this block of apartments.

I will never forget my first visit to see them there. My mother was wearing some shoes which were not shoes, tied all over with ropes. It was very peculiar, some things here, some small pigtails. My uncle, who suffered from diabetes and while in jail couldn’t keep his diet, his legs were very, very thin like straws. And they all wore short pants. My grandfather wearing short pants! I was shocked. I looked at them and did not recognize them.

The city of Athens was liberated from the Germans in October [Editor’s note: Athens was liberated on 12th October 1944]. I don’t know why they abandoned the Haidari camp in September; thank G-d they didn’t shoot them.

After the liberation, I stayed with the Fix family for quite some time. I wanted to see where I stood. I wanted and liked to stay there, I felt as if I were at home. Later when I restarted the university I left. All my family, except for my grandmother, returned to Thessaloniki. We learned about my father, my uncles, my aunts, their children, two hundred and twenty members of my family had been murdered.

My father had stayed in Thessaloniki because he was saying, ‘I have to collect things, do my job.’ And uncle Jacques, a well known figure in town, arranged for a boat to go and take him. They had a meeting place, there at Phaliro, where the boat would take my father and bring him to Athens.

However, in that period Phaliro was within the limits of the ghetto and a brother of my father, Alberto Molho, with his wife and two children came to stay at our house. So my father said, ‘How can I leave my brother and go?’ The boat owner came to the house and my uncle would tell him that he was afraid: ‘If the baby starts crying in the middle of the night what will I do with the Germans?’ ‘I will give him Luminal,’ said my father but didn’t convince him.

Another ten to fifteen days passed and we found someone else to help him escape. At that time my uncle was very close friends with the police chief and he told him, ‘At six o’clock in the morning I will send a soldier to take your father, dress him like a policeman. At four o’clock in the morning there was a roadblock, the Germans caught my father and that was it.

Later I heard from my uncle that returned from Auschwitz that my father, because he was 50 years old, too old that is, was taken directly to the crematorium.

Out of the big family of my father there was left only a sister, Bella, who lived in Israel, a brother, Charles, who lived in Brussels and survived Auschwitz, another brother, Jacques who lived in Grenoble, France, and two brothers living in Thessaloniki, Saoul and Alberto, who also survived. That is four brothers in all.

This Uncle Jacques Molho, who was married in Grenoble, went to the concentration camp while his wife Daisy and his daughter stayed in Paris. When the command to empty Paris was issued, it applied particularly for the children who were caught. A certain Mr. and Mrs. Simon, at night, brought I don’t know how many children to Spain through the Pyrenees. Now, it seems that among these children was Uncle Jacques’s child.

When my uncle Jacques returned from the camp his wife had died, from a heart attack, and they said that the child had been brought to Spain. So he took a bicycle and went all over Spain looking for his child in all the monasteries, because it is more than certain that the kids were brought to a monastery. He never managed to find his daughter; he returned and got married again, to a very good lady. They both aren’t alive anymore.

Uncle Alberto was the brother of my father who didn’t want to go with the boat owner. He left for the concentration camp with his wife and two children. He was the only one of his family to survive.

Uncle Saoul lost his wife and daughter. She was like a doll, while his daughter was an angel. Aunt Gracia and Aunt Lisa with her two children also died in Auschwitz.

That is where another uncle of mine, Dario, died of typhus at the very end, and next to him was his brother, Saoul, who returned and wrote about his time there. I have here the manuscripts he wrote, he said many things and among others about Uncle Dario. He said that Dario was an electrician in the concentration camp.

You see, the members of my father’s family were very resourceful. They would ask them, ‘Do you know how to play the piano.’ ‘We know,’ they responded. ‘Violin, do you know?’ ‘We know.’ You see they knew everything in order to pass a bad moment!

Well, and there came a German and told him, ‘I want …’ Something, I don’t know what it was. And my uncle responded, ‘In a moment, please wait a little and I will bring it to you.’ Now, how can you say ‘wait’ to a German?

So they hit him hard and left him full of bruises, half dead, and his brothers took care of him, and as they didn’t have compresses they put snow on his face. Uncle Saoul wrote many other things about his time there. He was so good this uncle of mine, Saoul!

Slowly we left from Academias Street and went to Kolonaki. They were hard years. It wasn’t easy at all, my father hadn’t returned, we didn’t have facilities or conveniences but it was OK, it passed.

From 1941 my grandfather Moshe was like a father to me, and he was very, very, very strict. For example, when my sister and myself got engaged and we were going out in the evenings, he wouldn’t permit the groom to enter our place upon bringing us back.

Never, ever. When as a student I was late on returning home, not engaged yet, he would ask my mother, ‘Has Yannakis, little John, come home yet?’ Little John was me; my grandfather was very humorous too.

When I decided to go to medical school to become a doctor, as I had this passion since my childhood, I told him, ‘You know, Grandfather, I will go to medical school.’ ‘You will go with the boys to university? I don’t believe it. Why go to university? To learn? Tell me what books you need and I will buy them for you.’ ‘OK, Grandpa, I will tell you.’

And I went out and took part in the examinations and passed, so I went to the medical school. But it wasn’t easy, at all. Grandfather was very strict and acted accordingly, in order to reinforce his position as the head of the family. But he was also just. I learned very many things from my grandfather, how to respect myself, not to tell lies, to be honest, etc. He taught me all that and most important of all, how to stand in my life.

He made all sort of difficult remarks in order to show me that he was there. For example: ‘Where will you go? When will you return?’ And I was rather old, eighteen or nineteen years old, but who could talk back to Grandfather?

My grandfather Memik, from the TV series, Memik. He was my teacher, he would tell me, ‘You can forgive anything but never forgive the person that wants to accuse you falsely and put intrigues within your family. This person you should throw out. Out, for he/she will never change.’

My grandfather did many things. When I was studying for upcoming exams until up to four in the morning, he would get up and come to check on me, he would open the door slowly and say, ‘Are you still studying? You consume a lot of electricity.

Tomorrow is a new day.’ He would shut the door and I would laugh. You see we ask the children to study more today, while my grandfather advised me not to study that much. But he just wanted to irritate me, really, to tell me, ‘Here I am.’

I also remember my poor Molho grandmother. Whenever I had exams at university she would say, ‘You go calmly and I will be sitting here reading prayers.’ When I returned in the afternoon she would ask me, ‘How did it go?’ ‘Fine, Grandmother.’ ‘Didn’t I tell you? I was reading the prayers and you passed your exams!’

So because of my grandmother I was passing my exams! I still see her, she didn’t have much hair, which we also inherited, and she was wearing a small hat to keep her head warm, and she was sitting there with a book in her hands, reading prayers.

I think about anti-Semitism and have the impression that from my early years there was something in the atmosphere, something anti-Semitic that I wasn’t experienced enough to detect. However, in Athens, after I had attended medical school, as we were coming from a lesson, a classmate of mine, a girl called me ‘dirty Jew.’

She shouldn’t have said it, and I never spoke to her again. I don’t even recall her name. I thought to myself that if for no real reason she said that, she is dangerous, and I cut any contact with her. This is a behavior coming directly from my grandfather.

  • After the war and later years

My family returned to Thessaloniki and Mother went to collect our belongings at our house. There my sister got engaged to the man she was in love with before the war, Raoul Frances, who had survived because he joined the National Resistance in the mountains. This is why I went to Thessaloniki, for my sister’s marriage in 1945.

People from the northern suburbs of the city, Menemeni, from the city of Veroia and some villagers had come to our house and lived there. Everything was in very bad condition, almost destroyed, beds, things etc. all destroyed.

The funniest thing happened to the house of my brother-in-law, Frances, which was also a two-story Turkish house with a fountain and garden. Well, the owner of a chained bear and monkey had come from Menemeni to live there!

And in the basement lived a poor woman, who had lost her husband in Yugoslavia, with her son and daughter, Vouli was her name. This Vouli stayed there for the rest of her life. My sister lived on the top floor.

The brother of my brother-in-law hadn’t gone to the mountain, but stayed in Thessaloniki and got married to an Italian girl called Vetta, who was pregnant. He would go somewhere and secretly, with his friends, would listen to the radio, from London, as the Germans had officially confiscated all the radios. Somebody betrayed them and they came in and arrested them all.

As the woman was Italian she tried to save him and get him out of prison. She would send him food daily; she couldn’t go herself, as she was very close to giving birth. Exactly on the day she was giving birth, the Germans had returned the food and the lady next door decided not to tell her, as she would think that her husband was taken to be executed.

However, right upon giving birth another neighbor said, ‘Vetta, why is your husband’s food still here?’ She gave birth and immediately, maybe from the shock, died. The baby was also called Vetta.

However, her father returned from jail, and since there was no active marriage anymore with a dead wife, he was sent to the concentration camp. He died either in the train or in the camp.

After the occupation this little girl, little Vetta was taken by my sister Nina and her husband and as the Italians had been expelled from Greece, Vetta’s aunt kept on sending letters, particularly when Nina had her first son, Mimis.

The Italian woman wrote, ‘Now that the son has been born, things are different.’ So we responded to her, ‘Dear Anita, the only person to remind us that Vetta is not our daughter is you.’ And that’s when she stopped bothering us, and indeed we all love Vetta very much. Now she has three daughters and six grandchildren.

So my sister had Vetta, then gave birth to Mimi and this Vouli took care of her kids. She had a son of her own, from her late husband. At some stage, Vouli immigrated to Germany, but she didn’t have any luck there and returned.

She also gave birth to a daughter, fathered in Germany by a Greek from Kavala, who was already married, but fortunately he recognized the child. We were the ones to take care of the marriage of this child. Vouli died 15 days after the death of my sister; she was as a member of our family.

Going back to our story: the first thing my sister did was to send away the bear, the monkey and the tambourine; she fixed the house as best as she could and set up the wooden frames factory they used to have. She had to do very many things as everything was destroyed.

The wooden frame factory had been the business of her husband before the war. It is worth noting that in the past my grandfather was a partner of his father. Later, following a conflict, they separated their activities.

Our family house wasn’t easy to get back. My grandmother didn’t want to return there, she would always say, ‘I won’t set foot in Thessaloniki. I will neither find my sister there, nor my family, nor anybody, so why go there? I will stay here, in Athens.’ My grandmother was very insistent and so we stayed in Athens. Of course, I couldn’t go either since I was already studying here.

When I visited Thessaloniki, I saw in our neighborhood that the houses where Jews used to live before the war now had been taken by Christians. However, the Mizrachi club, which was opposite our home, had stayed as it was.

The grandfather who was the guard didn’t live any more but the son returned. I don’t know if he’s still alive, Solomon was his name. There were very few Jewish people left. A minimum, maybe a thousand souls all together. So I went and didn’t find anyone, no friend, no cousins, no one.

Many of the ones that returned from the concentration camps, of the very few that did return, went to Israel. There was an orphanage or something like that, where they were offered free housing and this organization was helping them to go to Israel.

In reality what they did was to help them get away, transport them and leave them at a shore in Israel because they were not permitted to enter the country legally, as it was under British occupation. Of course, this wave of immigrants wasn’t the first aliyah. The pioneers were the ones that had come from Russia on foot and set up the kibbutzim.

There were quite a number, that is, the survivors that left. Some distant relatives of mine went. The place where they kept them was called ‘Hassara’ and we went there every weekend to sing for them and entertain them as they had lost their families and were very lonely.

Do you know what they did in Thessaloniki at that time? The Greek state did something good. Whenever there were no immediate heirs, the state could acquire the buildings. So, due to the condition of the people returning from the concentration camps, which in reality was indescribable, the state decided to give to the Jewish community all the real estates, so that the community could nurse and attend to the needs of the survivors.

So what did our community do? As the first survivors arrived, they started looking for their houses, their relatives, their mothers, their brothers and sisters but did not find anyone, absolutely none. So the community immediately arranged for group marriages. This is terrifying. In order to set up their homes and their families again.

My sister got married at the Monastirioton synagogue. After the marriage we went to Phaliro for an evening dinner but the picture of Thessaloniki was already different. You see, the Jews had always offered an element of civilization, of sociability.

It was an altogether different picture because all the people from the villages around had come to the city. They had come, the bear, the monkey, Menemeni, Chortiatis and had acquired the houses. They had even come from Veroia, Naousa. Who knew them? What did they care?

Of course, the Jews were a different society altogether, they were ‘people of the city.’ You see, Thessaloniki was also rather ‘posh,’ that is, they were somehow ‘stuck up’ as they knew they were good. Even here in Athens they were good, but in Thessaloniki the history was also there, they were descendants for centuries, 500 years. There were many good Jews in Thessaloniki, very good families, different, more civilized.

I finished medical school and in 1954 I got married, but I had not sat my exams for my medical specialization. I became a microbiologist and I studied it at the Evagelismos Hospital. I was a Greek subject while my husband, Richard Capuano, was a Spanish subject. He belonged to one of the approximately two hundred families that were expelled from Spain by Queen Isabella, and the Greek state refused to make them Greeks.

I don’t know the reason. We asked for the Greek citizenship many times. We even had a client at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and another client at the Department of the Interior and their response was: ‘We cannot do anything and we don’t know why.’

We applied and reapplied as my husband wanted very much to become Greek and he wanted our son to go to the army. The final result was negative and my son didn’t go to the army as he is Spanish subject. There are still a number of Spanish subjects in Greece.

Of course I couldn’t have a free profession, and then comes a law that says that a Greek woman can be married to a foreigner but retain her citizenship and therefore can be employed in a free profession. That made us decide to get married.

The family of my husband was known to my family from Thessaloniki. At the Jewish school there was someone who worked there whose son was married to a first cousin of my father in Israel. She was called Saltiel and her husband was Cohen.

He was the one who got me in touch with my husband-to-be. My husband was very open minded so he decided to call me on the phone and asked me to go out with him. We went out for a walk, we started to get acquainted and got to know each other, and we went out a few times and then got married.

I intended for my husband to be a Jew. Do you not see what is happening now’ This has become a ‘mayonnaise’ these days, and with the civil marriage we don’t observe these things. My daughter-in-law is Christian Orthodox; I had no objection.

However, at the time when I got married it was very difficult for someone to change religion. It wasn’t only because of the parents’ reaction, but also because to convert took a lot of time. Of course, you had to study, the women that converted and became Jews know about our religion much more than I do. I don’t know much about religion.

My husband had many commercial representations, medicals and other things too, but most importantly, he was the first importer of cellophane in Greece. He would tell me that when he first brought cellophane to Greece he went to Flocas and asked for the owner.

He knew the family, as they also came from Thessaloniki. ‘Let us have a coffee,’ he proposed to Flocas. ‘Yes, certainly.’ ‘Could you please bring some chocolates.’ And he brought some, wrapped in a golden piece of paper.

My husband had a piece of cellophane in his pocket, took the chocolate and wrapped it in cellophane. ‘What is this that shines?’ ‘Cellophane.’ This is how my husband got his first order before the war.

My husband was born in Thessaloniki. His mother was from Monastir, she was born at the end of the 19th century and her name was Tzogia Beraha. His father, Moses Capuano, was of Italian origins. He was very aristocratic, came from an old family. They say that last names ending in ‘–no’ like Capuano, Modiano, Massarano, etc. were selected families of Spanish origins.

My husband had finished the French Lycée and was very fluent in French. His father had died in 1934 and his mother in 1977. My husband, his brother Jacques and his mother, as Spanish subjects, were arrested and taken to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp 31. However, life in this camp was a different world compared to Auschwitz. In Auschwitz they would have roll-call in the morning, and you didn’t know if you would still be alive by the end of the day.

Lina, who was the oldest child and the third boy, Rene, were collected by the Spanish Embassy here, and were transported to Spain, then sent to Egypt and then to Israel. Finally they asked to be taken to Cairo, where they stayed at the house of the other brother, the second child; the older boy called Joseph was already living there permanently. However Lina’s husband was caught and never came back, while she and her two children survived and went to America. Rene was not married at that time.

My husband received compensation from the Claims Conference of Adenauer but nothing of importance. This organization paid the German compensation, that is 450 million German Marks, distributed to survivors. My husband received money twice but I cannot recall the exact sum. The last time was in 2001, but the previous one was much earlier. I don’t remember. I don’t know and I don’t wish to know. It didn’t interest me.

My husband received his pension approximately in 1980. His mother tongue was Judeo-Spanish and French but also Greek. He could speak English too.

My personal business went very well. I was a very conscious doctor. I was employed as a freelance professional. In the beginning I would work as a replacement at the hospitals Helena and Marika Heliadi in Athens. The manager, Mrs. Pangali was a close friend of mine; she is dead now. This is why I was going there from time to time but that was at the beginning of my career, later I didn’t go any more.

Then I inscribed myself for a PhD, which I started in 1960 and finished in March 1962. I was then pregnant with Maick. The mark I received was ‘excellent.’ The subject was new then, very avant-garde. The two transaminases that have already become routine by now. They are the microbiological examinations of the liver. They control the circulation of the liver and of the heart.

The work was done at the pharmacologists’ with Professor Mr. Nicolas Kleisiouni, a deputy professor, Mr. Constatinos Moiras, and teaching assistant, the next professor of pharmacology, Mr. Dionysios Veronos, who recently passed away. He was a remarkable men, I don’t think there was another professor like him. We became very close friends; I would go there every day to see my rabbits!

I have an allergy to mice; I cannot even pronounce the word mouse. Despite that the professor would tell me, ‘No, you must also do it with mice. We have so many mice and you spend your money on rabbits. They are white little mice, beautiful mice.’ ‘Professor, I can’t, it is impossible for me.’ ‘No, you will also do one mouse.’

Finally, we had a field mouse whose blood was taken by Dionysios Veronas. This is how I managed to run various tests on them too. I have to admit that their blood cells were very strong as compared to the rabbit’s red blood cells which were weaker! I have to admit that looking at the blood specimens was a great experience for me too; I was taking intravenous blood from the rabbit’s ears from their capillary vessels that are extremely thin. I learned, very quickly how to do it without breaking any vessels.

When I did my doctorate thesis I was pregnant and due to a pregnancy anomaly I had to lie in bed. So I sent my assistant, in order for him to phone me and tell me to come there when the time would be approaching; it was planned for seven o’clock.

I had already prepared my black costume so that I would be very formal for the occasion, with all the medicine professors there, and he calls me at five, instead of around seven, telling me that they decided to examine me immediately. I jumped up, like crazy, put an overcoat on top and rushed to the university. Everything was messed up on that day. I had ordered a taxi and the taxi never came, so I arrived there with great agony at the last moment.

In the beginning we stayed in a neoclassic house, which belonged to my husband’s family, on Rethymnon Street. My mother also stayed there, to look after the child, and we also had an in-house baby sitter for the child until the age of four. But later we left that place and came here, where it was more convenient for me and for the child.

The private practice was on the same floor and next door to this apartment. The kid would go to school in the morning and in the afternoon I didn’t work in my private practice, as I wanted to be at home and I wanted the child to see his mother in the house. Whoever wanted me would call and arrange for an appointment up to two thirty or three o’clock at the latest.

My son Mike attended the Jewish school from kindergarten to the third class of elementary school. Every afternoon a French girl, a very nice girl would come to teach him French.

Every summer, after he turned four, I would take Mike to Switzerland. It was to give him the opportunity to speak French, to learn languages. As he was a good pupil, my husband would say, ‘Why worry? He will learn languages. Every language is a different human being.’ And he was right. First he went to Switzerland, twice, the next three summers to France, the next three or four times to England.

He went to Chantilly where there was a chateau, belonging to the Rothschild family that had given it as a donation; it was used as an orphanage for the children that lost their parents in the Holocaust. There I met the manager and the manageress, Mr. and Mrs. Simon, who were the couple that had helped the children escape from Paris to Spain.

Those orphans grew up and the orphanage closed, but for one month every year Jewish children would come from all over the world. It cost 1,000 US Dollars for the month, but the money was not a payment, it was a voluntary donation. For example, the children coming from Canada and whose parents owned factories, gave much more.

Mike went there for three years, and it was very good. One year I went there too. In the first year he was crying. He had not yet finished the first grade of the elementary school. He went together with the oldest daughter of Vetta, my niece Sofie.

One day I called them on the phone. It was very funny. ‘Why are you there at this hour of the day?’ I asked and Mike said, ‘We didn’t go for the walk.’ You see, every afternoon they went for a walk in the woods. ‘And why did you not go?’

‘We cannot, we want to come back home. We are crying and don’t participate in order to save the money, the cost of the walk. If we don’t go they won’t charge us for the walk.’ Charging the cost of the walk, just listen to that!

‘But dear Sofi, what are you saying? You know that the return tickets are at the hands of the teacher there. What are you talking about?’ And so I wrote them a letter, I was just reading it again the day before yesterday: ‘We have sent you there as representatives of Greece, descendants of Kolokotronis, of Manto Mavrogenous and Bouboulina, heroes of the Greek revolution against the Turks in 1821, which eventually resulted in the creation of the first modern Greek state. You cannot humiliate us like that.’

Finally, the children were convinced and Mike also made a good friend there. This boy came from Amversa, and I even went to his bar mitzvah. His father was a jeweler. His mother was from Poland, and had gone to a concentration camp, where she had lost all her family. So they had this son, who was playing the piano exceptionally well.

The two boys got very close, and every summer Mike would go to their place and when the family would go, for example, to London, they would also take Mike with them. One summer Leon came here, to Greece, and gave three concerts: one in the Greek American Union, one at the Jewish camp and one at the ‘Casa d’ Italia.’ At that time he was ten or eleven years old.

For the last grades of elementary school, Mike went to the private school of Andonopoulos. This is contrary to what I did as a kid; I went to public schools and this turned out to be very positive for me, so for high school I decided that my son should do the same. He went to the 5th Gymnasium and all my relatives were against me. However, I still insist that this is what I should have done, as he got in contact with all kind of people and doesn’t make distinctions.

My son received all the lessons necessary for his bar mitzvah. It was held on a Saturday and the rabbi didn’t give his consent to decorate the synagogue with flowers because, as he explained, the magnificence of the day is such that it cannot be beautified more with flowers.

So we introduced a novelty and offered a gardenia flower to every lady in the synagogue, at the place reserved for women only. I will not forget him taking the Sefer Torah. But, how many flower petals did we throw to him!

You see I had gone to the end of Patissia, bought very many flowers and we had pulled out the petals. The petals thrown were like snow. I have his speech recorded on a cassette, it was very good. Afterward, in the evening, what a rain, my G-d what a rain, a true flood! Due to the rain only half of the people we had invited came to the evening cocktail.

After Mike finished high school he went for a year to the Deree College [the private American College of Athens]. Unfortunately at Deree he couldn’t get enough credits to get a degree and so he went to Israel. Despite the fact that he wasn’t a good student he went to Israel in 1980 and didn’t lose any time nor did he fail any subject.

My son studied political sciences and he also speaks seven languages: Spanish, French, English, Portuguese, Italian, Hebrew and Greek. He also worked as a simultaneous interpreter. He sent an application to the European Union and he was employed there. He worked there for four or five months, but in the end he wanted to leave because the Greek cabin, at that time, had very few translators. That was fifteen or sixteen years ago.

So he decided to quit. However, they told him that he cannot leave, as he would have to return all the benefits he had received, plane tickets etc. Mike said, ‘OK.’ They told him to wait, as they were in congress, and told him: ‘We will call you, but we don’t think that you can go.’ He waited outside. After some time they called him: ‘The era of slavery has been over in Europe for many years now. You are free to go.’ And he left.

Before going to Israel, during the period that he was learning Hebrew here, he worked for six months at the Embassy of Uruguay. He does not only speak Spanish, not the Spanish of Spain, the Castilian, he also speaks the South American dialects. He is an impressive child. When he left for Israel I wasn’t worried but I was sorry that he left, as he is my only son.

I remember a particular incident of which I am ashamed. I was at the airport, crying because he was leaving and there comes to me one of the ambassadors of Israel. She tells me, ‘What is it? Why are you crying Mrs. Capuano?’ Because I was a Jew, they knew me as a doctor at the embassy of Israel. ‘I’m crying because my son is leaving and I lose him.’ ‘You won’t lose your son,’ she said, ‘you win him as there he will acquire his personality, you will see.’ And she was right.

There they leave the kids alone, so that their personality can come to the surface. To get control of themselves and become independent. And even after he returned he lived alone of course. He was no ‘child of his mother.’

My son got married in 1999. His wife is called Silia Kapitsimadi. She finished the English Literature department here; she also finished another private American University on Arts and went to finish it up for two and a half years in London. She is a jeweler.

They didn’t have children for a long time. Mike says they were afraid they’d ‘become like him,’, that is, extremely undisciplined. Now, finally, my daughter-in-law is pregnant and we are all very happy about it.

My son now has a representation office; he represents Samos wines and other drinks. He is a very good person; he was always very good with his friends that love him. They try to be with him, he is a very civilized man, open minded. To tell you the truth, when mixed marriages take place, the parents, despite their original reaction, at the end give in. I can assure you I never said a word because he is a very fine person.

They married in a civil ceremony. Silia said that when they will have children she will convert. At their home they don’t celebrate the Jewish holidays, as they come here. A few days ago, on the eve of Yom Kippur, I made an eggplant pie and they ate all of it.

The Christian festivities we celebrate all together at the mother of my daughter-in-law’s: Easter, New Year’s Eve and Christmas. A little later my son has his own birthday and gives a party, as they all do.

Together with my husband we had many friends both from the Jewish community and outside it. We had a group of friends; one of them was an admiral. All of them where people that liked to feast. Giose, Lava, Gionis… we had very nice parties; it was unimaginable to have a party at which there wouldn’t be a piano or a guitar. As I sing correctly I was singing all night. They were very good companions. All this is lost now, nothing is left as most of these people have died.

My husband was also very good at companies. When he first went to America, he went on an ocean liner where they had a dance competition and he won the first prize. And what was the prize? This old lighter, let me show you, so nothing, but he danced well. He liked the entertainment.

Then there was also the Tsatsi family; we were very close with them. Mr. Tsatis was a professor of Pharmaceutical Chemistry and an academic too, a member of the Greek Academy. We were with them when he was accepted at the academy. We went to prepare the sweets and organize the meal that followed. We were friends, brothers, and of course with them we had a whole group of professors we were frequenting like Alexandropoulos, Kascarellis, Tountas etc. All these people we were close friends with don’t exist any more, they are all dead now.

Our companies were including all sort of different types of people, many friends, and we went on cruises, trips etc.

Today there aren’t even relatives left. Uncle Albert, the one that returned from the concentration camp and remarried and had a son, is now dead, while his wife is in Thessaloniki and the son lives here in Athens. I see him from time to time or call him on the phone, or at the synagogue. When my husband died in 2003, he came to the funeral, the Kaddish too.

I also had a sister-in-law who lived in Cairo. Her name was Rena, she was the wife of Joseph Capuano. She was born in Cairo but her origins are from Ioannina. Her father was a pharmacist in Cairo. I loved her very much, but she also died in 2003. She had cancer, a cystis that had not been noticed, and some day she knelt down to tie her shoes, understood there was something wrong, but is was too late.

Here in Athens, I also have a sister-in-law, the wife of Jacques. She has children etc but they are all very busy, they have their own life. So many people around. Sometimes I say to myself, ‘Which friend of mine should I call on the phone and arrange to see?’ And I don’t know, maybe my mind stops, I don’t know.

My mother has been buried in the third cemetery here. My husband too. The same applies to my father and mother-in-law. We brought the remains from Thessaloniki, as on 5th December 1942, the tombs were unearthed; the burial plaques were taken to the university which was built there, on the site of the Jewish cemetery, while the bones were here and there. Now they are all here.

At the beginning it was the first cemetery, which was relatively small as the site was also small. So it closed down. Now it is the third cemetery which will end anytime shortly, as we don’t unearth the remains. All the tombs are there. I guess they will give us another branch.

My sister is buried in Thessaloniki. There it is quite special as all the tombs look the same. There are no mausoleums, a simple tombstone, the same for everyone. I made a simple tombstone for my mother, a simple tombstone like in Thessaloniki. Here at the third cemetery there are only two tombstones like that. One Carasso from Thessaloniki and my mother’s.

We didn’t discuss Israel or other Jewish subjects with our Christian friends. It just didn’t happen. Not that we refused to talk, but they didn’t share the same interests with us.

Right from the beginning we have been following up the creation of the Israeli state 32, its actions and its evolution. We still are well informed of what is going on there. I receive the informative newsletters of the community; it is part of our life. I am even a member of the summer camp committee at the community.

I hadn’t thought of aliyah since I had my parents. I wasn’t all alone in life as the others that went there to start a new life. I had my mother, my people, so why go there? The ones that left had lost everything.

I had an aunt who stayed there, in Israel, before the creation of the state, I had many relatives that went there, all very satisfied with their decision to go there.

If someone immigrates, say a Greek goes to Germany or Australia or Sweden trying to improve his life, he will always feel a foreigner. When they left from here, they found a shelter there. And of course, it was the land of their forefathers. The State of Israel was at that period in the making as it was bound to be. The ones that immigrated there didn’t go to a foreign place, what they really did was go back to their home,. A home that had been occupied by others, but it was always their home, the land of their great-, great-grandfathers. That is where Israel started from.

Once, when I was in America for a health problem, I met an Israeli-German Jew. Before World War II, the German Jews didn’t want to leave Germany. They would say, ‘Why go?’ I am more German than the Germans; I love my county more than the Germans.’

Anyhow this man told me: “When I’m finished with my treatment I’ll leave.’ ‘Where do you live?’ In Israel, in Natania, where I own the best restaurant the “Henry the 4th”.’ ‘Very good and what do you do in Germany?’‘Oh, I have a very big business, real estate.’ ‘Bravo, how can you?

I cannot go to Germany, cannot even listen to German.’ ‘But Germany provides me with the funds to be able to live in Israel. My restaurant is in Israel but in reality it is my hobby. Germany provides me with the money to live in Israel.’ I was very impressed by what he told me.

What I mean to say is that Greece is a pro-Arab country. All the time you hear, there were killed that many Palestinians, that many Palestinians, that many Palestinians. You must be very naïve to believe that in a war in Israel only Palestinians get killed.

Do you know how many young people get killed in Israel? A very high number but what do they do, mourning is not permitted, the only thing permitted is to close the windows and the shutter and not go out wearing black because in that case all Israel would be colored black.

This is why it is so important that they do not retrograde so that they will keep their morale. And here on the TV and in the newspapers they say: “That many Palestinians were killed.’ For G-d’s sake, no Jew has been killed? Buy ‘The Times’ and you’ll see how many Jews were killed.

Or I call my cousins: ‘What’s the news?’ ‘Do not ask, the son of our friends XXX was killed.’ But here, on TV we only see them throwing stones, they don’t have guns. Or we see the wives of those killed who cry and cry and cry. They don’t say, of course, that they only cry when the cameras are there.

Jewish mothers are more dignified, they do not go out in the streets to cry. Their children are hit, because it is usually the children who are the victims and they get hold of themselves so that their husband can go to work, can look after the other children. A child is hit and the whole family is destroyed. And here they say nothing about all that. They don’t even refer to whole cities with hidden arms buried underneath them.

And what happened with all that money they gave to Arafat. He took all that himself and finally it ended up with his heir, his wife, since he didn’t get a divorce. As politics is dirty, huge amounts of money are involved. All the big nations are sending money because they want to sell arms. This is the truth of the whole story.

I have also to mention that there the young ones are continuously in the army. It is not like, ‘I went to the army and finished it.’ It is not like that. They call them every now and then to do ‘melouim,’ that is, going to the frontiers and serve in the army for some more time.

When my son was studying, they would patrol every night, a military man with a jeep and all the others were guarding and my son, wearing a helmet, was looking for hidden bombs. They were patrolling every night.

As for myself I am Greek. My religion is Jewish but as a citizen I am Greek and very much so. Even in the cemetery here there is a monument for the Jews that died in the Albanian war.

I always respected and considered seriously both religions. Let me just tell you something. I was returning from Paris with my son and getting out of the airplane we entered the bus to take us from the plane to the airport. There was an empty seat and I thought to myself, ‘Bravo, they all went to the other side and left this seat for me.’

Well, it turned out there was machine oil there and that was the reason it was empty. I try to go there and I slip, fall down with a triple crushing break of my shoulder. A whole story, the journalists came, I was taken to hospital etc.

Later we took Olympic Airlines to court. Olympic Airlines had tree lawyers to say that it was raining that day and that this was the reason I slipped! My son had to search meteorological archives in order to prove that it wasn’t the rain but the oil, to prove that it wasn’t raining that day.

Finally the president of the court called me and said, ‘Please take the oath.’ And there was the New Testament, so I took the oath on the New Testament, and that moment a young lawyer jumps out and says: ‘Mrs. President, Mrs. Capuano is bad willed.’ ‘How dare you say something like that?’ said the president.

The lady is a doctor and a very respected person.’ Upon that the young lawyer asked me, ‘What is your religion, my lady?’ ‘Jewish,’ I replied, and he goes, ‘But you took the oath on the New Testament. How is that possible?’ I said, ‘Mrs. President, G-d is one, his representatives differ.’

After that the examination of the case continued as nobody said anything else following that statement of mine. And this is what I really believe by the way.

Yesterday I was reading about Alois Brunner 33 who is in Syria. Here there is a law since 1959 that in reality abolishes the prosecution of Germans in Greece, and he killed so many people! Well this is ridiculous. If someone will steal bread they will arrest him and put him in jail.

He, who killed 56,000 people, has his prosecution finished… I’m sorry, but that I can’t understand. What does it mean that his prosecution is finished? These things happen only in Greece.

This Brunner is in Syria and they know who he is and what he did. But in Latin American countries there are all sort of peculiarities. You will see, for example, a mayor called Mr. Weinberg, many Germans who have been completely assimilated.

They changed their hair from blond to black, and they have had all sort of plastic surgeries to change their looks. And they had a lot of money, a whole lot of money. This is the reason they never invaded Switzerland, as the exchange was: we will give you our gold to guard and we will not invade.

A short while ago we visited Auschwitz, as it was the 60th celebration of the liberation. The visitors were coming from all over the world, but this particular year something new happened. The European ministries of education funded many non-Jewish schools, so that the children would have an opportunity to participate in the manifestation of memory.

There were about 30,000 people present, and as I was walking, I heard a group talking in French amongst themselves. I asked them where they were coming from and they told me Lyon, France, and when I asked them if they were Jews they said, no, that they were Catholics.

Here, the Ministry of Education gave 50.000 Euros and only 15 people were interested in coming! The rest of the money was given to schools, students etc. of our community. This is how the ones who wanted to could go. It was a gigantic manifestation, the ‘March of the Living.’ We walked three kilometers to go there and another three to return. I personally didn’t think I would be able to make it, as I have a problem with my legs. I still cannot quite believe how I managed to complete the march.

As we were going around the camps on foot I was crying and crying because it is a different thing to read about it – at home I have two shelves full of books on the Holocaust – than to see it in reality. To put yourself in their place at that moment that they would put in line one after the other in order to see how many a single bullet could kill, penetrating from one to the other etc. Well, this is a different thing all together.

You should see the ‘pieces of cotton,’ or what I thought were pieces of cotton. I asked myself, ‘why do they show these pieces of cotton? Did they take them out of a mattress? But weren’t mattresses here filled with straw?’ So I asked our group leader what those discolored pieces of cotton were all about and she told me, ‘What discolored pieces of cotton, Mrs. Capuano? Can’t you see that it is peoples’ hair?’

They found five tons of it there that were not sent to Germany. They also told me this hair is the raw material for manufacturing a very strong and light cloth that is used to make parachutes. If you do not see and live it you have seen nothing.

Many speeches were given and there came Sharon and we could see him on the big screens that had been installed. It was all very moving and the music they would play would also shake us. Before we started to walk – it was where the rail tracks were, on the spot where the trains were passing – they were giving us little cardboard badges and written on those was, ‘In the memory of my family, my parents, my uncle.’

They would pin those cardboard badges on us. And when we arrived there was a sort of esplanade because the manifestation took place in Birkenau 34, the march started in Auschwitz and ended in Birkenau. Of course, only Auschwitz exists now because in Birkenau there is nothing left since the Germans had the whole camp blown up before they left.

At this esplanade, we were looking at a giant screen and there spoke the prime minister of Poland, a representative of the organization of the Rights of Women and many others. However, the highlight was Sharon who said, ‘I will not speak to you about the Holocaust as what I see is enough. You must talk about it among yourselves, with your children, with your children’s children, as it must never be forgotten.’

Then came Elie Wiesel 35 and said, ‘I was a young child, fourteen years old.’ And I was wondering how he survived as at that young age they were not taking them in the camp, he must have looked much older. He continued, ‘I was holding hands with my father, my mother, my little brother and suddenly, I had no time, they all disappeared. My mother had no time to give me a kiss, neither my father to give me his blessing. I lost them. Why all that?’

Then came the former chief rabbi of Israel whose name is Lau and said, ‘Why did they choose us? We all see the same flowers, we all smell the same flowers. Why did they choose us?’

I went to the gas chambers and prayed my respects and is seems that he people taken in there they were suffocating and dying, but before dying they were hitting the door with their hands, and they were digging the walls with their nails and on one wall it was written ‘n-k-m’ and the rabbi said, ‘I understand it as the Hebrew word “nekama” which means “revenge.”

Certainly revenge but not with violence. Revenge is what I see today. Revenge is 30,000 people present in this manifestation today. Revenge is that they didn’t manage to achieve what they were after. Revenge is every child that is born.’

Only by visiting that place you can really understand it, live it partly, since only the people who suffered there really lived it.

Recently, in 2005, I honored Mr. Fix. I had everything prepared already some fifteen or twenty years ago, but Mrs. Fix didn’t want me to, as she told me, ‘Mr. Fix is dead. Mr. Fix hid you, I had no involvement in it, whatever we did we did it for the best and I don’t want any thank you. For whatever we did let G-d thank us.’

However, I had my dossier ready and last year was the celebration of the Holocaust in Greece for the first time and little Charles Fix, the son, calls me. ‘Ioanna,’ he says – I was called Ioanna Marinopoulou when I lived with them – and asked me, ‘Why did you forget us?’ I told him that I hadn’t forgotten them and that I would expect him at my place the next day. So he saw that I had everything prepared and I told him, ‘Your mother didn’t want it.’ But he said, ‘I do want it.’

It took me only eight months to arrange for it. I telephoned here, I telephoned there, got in contact with Yad Vashem and with Mr. Saltiel, if I recall correctly, and this year we celebrated the sixty year anniversary.

We went to Thessaloniki, because the celebration was held in Thessaloniki. The son, Charles Fix, came as well as my son and Mr. Prokopiou, the only cousin of Charles Fix. He came especially for this occasion and left again the next day in the morning.

I had also prepared a little speech to give but I didn’t in the end, as I was very moved and was crying. And when it was over I turned my head towards Charles, he turned towards me, and we looked at each other and fell into each other’s arms. I can still hear the applause we received.

Imagine, 2.500 people clapping. And when I saw Aliki Mordohai, I told her, ‘Aliki, my child, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say a few words.’ And her response was that I did very well not to talk as, ‘the embrace and the kiss said it all and it was more than enough.’

Most recently, I’ve been occupied with my autobiography. Some people told me that there wouldn’t be a high demand for these old stories. However, it will soon be published by the Gavrielides Editions. So I am very busy with it.

I don’t go to the synagogue frequently. I only go for the holidays. It does not influence me, I am what I am, whether I am in a religious place or not. When there is a big holiday I like to go there and pray. I also go to the synagogue for memorial services or when they open the temple.

Every night I say my prayer, ‘Shema Israel.’ This is the only prayer I know, I am sorry to know only this prayer, but then again this prayer says it all. There is only one ‘Shema Israel’ but even if you don’t pray, when you say, ‘oh, my G-d, please…’ it means that for you G-d exists.

Describing my life I could say that I lived a ‘bourgeois life.’

I’ve always believed that the Greek Jews but also the Greek Orthodox Christians do no have an aristocracy, there may have been some aristocrats, on the islands of Corfu, Cefallonia, Zakynthos and that it is all.

For me aristocracy is a right and honest house. People well educated, cultured. These are the people that get distinguished. Is it not so? And we do not have aristocracy like the French with the prefix ‘de’, nor dukes nor counts nor Sirs, nothing of the sort. But even if we have, the titles have in reality been bought because today titles are sold. As for me, I consider equal and fully comparable all the correct, civil families with alleged aristocracy.

  • Glossary:

1 Expulsion of the Jews from Spain: In the 13th century, after a period of stimulating spiritual and cultural life, the economic development and wide-range internal autonomy obtained by the Jewish communities in the previous centuries was curtailed by anti-Jewish repression emerging from under the aegis of the Dominican and the Franciscan orders.

There were more and more false blood libels, and the polemics, which were opportunities for interchange of views between the Christian and the Jewish intellectuals before, gradually condemned the Jews more and more, and the middle class in the rising started to be hostile with the competitor.

The Jews were gradually marginalized. Following the pogrom of Seville in 1391, thousands of Jews were massacred throughout Spain, women and children were sold as slaves, and synagogues were transformed into churches. Many Jews were forced to leave their faith.

About 100,000 Jews were forcibly converted between 1391 and 1412. The Spanish Inquisition began to operate in 1481 with the aim of exterminating the supposed heresy of new Christians, who were accused of secretly practicing the Jewish faith.

In 1492 a royal order was issued to expel resisting Jews in the hope that if old co-religionists would be removed new Christians would be strengthened in their faith.

At the end of July 1492 even the last Jews left Spain, who openly professed their faith. The number of the displaced is estimated to lie between 100,000-150,000. (Source: Jean-Christophe Attias - Esther Benbassa: Dictionnaire de civilisation juive, Paris, 1997)

2 German Occupation: in the spring of 1941, Germans defeated the Greek army and occupied Greece until October 1944. The county was divided in three zones of occupation. Thrace and the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia were occupied by Bulgaria, Germany occupied Macedonia including Thessaloniki, Piraeus and western Crete and Italy occupied the remaining mainland and the islands.

Now depending of where the Jews lived, defined both their future luck as also the possibilities of escape. Greek resistance groups, communists or not fought against the occupation in an effort to save Greece but also the Jews living in Greece.

Approximately 8,000 to 10,000 Greek Jews survived the Holocaust, due to the refusal, to a great extent, of the Greeks, as also the leadership of the Greek Orthodox Church, to cooperate with the Germans for the application of their plan to deport all of them. Further more, the Italian authorities up to their surrender in 1943 refused to facilitate or to permit the deportation of the Jews from the Italian zone of occupation.

(Source: www.ushmm.org/greece/nonflash/gr/intro.htm)

3 Moskov, Kostis (1939-1998): Mayor of Thessaloniki, advisor to the Ministry of Culture and Representative of the Greek Civilization foundation in the Middle East. A historian, writer, poet and journalist who had many of his works published.

4 Ladino: Also known as Judeo-Spanish, it is the spoken and written Hispanic language of Jews of Spanish and Portuguese origin. Ladino did not become a specifically Jewish language until after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 (and Portugal in 1495) - it was merely the language of their province. It is also known as Judezmo, Dzhudezmo, or Spaniolit.

When the Jews were expelled from Spain and Portugal they were cut off from the further development of the language, but they continued to speak it in the communities and countries to which they emigrated. Ladino therefore reflects the grammar and vocabulary of 15th-century Spanish.

In Amsterdam, England and Italy, those Jews who continued to speak 'Ladino' were in constant contact with Spain and therefore they basically continued to speak the Castilian Spanish of the time. Ladino was nowhere near as diverse as the various forms of Yiddish, but there were still two different dialects, which corresponded to the different origins of the speakers:

'Oriental' Ladino was spoken in Turkey and Rhodes and reflected Castilian Spanish, whereas 'Western' Ladino was spoken in Greece, Macedonia, Bosnia, Serbia and Romania, and preserved the characteristics of northern Spanish and Portuguese. The vocabulary of Ladino includes hundreds of archaic Spanish words, and also includes many words from different languages:

mainly from Hebrew, Arabic, Turkish, Greek, French, and to a lesser extent from Italian. In the Ladino spoken in Israel, several words have been borrowed from Yiddish. For most of its lifetime, Ladino was written in the Hebrew alphabet, in Rashi script, or in Solitreo.

It was only in the late 19th century that Ladino was ever written using the Latin alphabet. At various times Ladino has been spoken in North Africa, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Romania, France, Israel, and, to a lesser extent, in the United States and Latin America.

5 Rashi alphabet: A Hebrew alphabet traditionally used for Rashi (Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, 1040-1105) commentaries of the Bible and the Talmud, it is also the traditional alphabet of Judeo-Spanish. The Judeo-Spanish alphabet also used certain characters to denote the Spanish sounds that are alien to the Hebrew phonetics.

Judeo-Spanish religious as well as secular texts were written in Rashi letters up until the introduction of the Latin alphabet, first by Alliance Israelite Universelle after 1860.

6 Railway network of Thessaloniki: In 1871 the city of Thessaloniki was connected to the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. In 1888 it was connected to Belgrade and the European Railway network.

In 1894 the connection of Thessaloniki with Monastiri was completed, while in 1896 Thessaloniki was also connected with Constantinople, today's Istanbul.

7 Fez: Ottoman headgear. As part of the Imperial Prescript of Gulhane (a westernizing campaign) of Sultan Mahmud II (1839-1876) the traditional Ottoman dressing code was abolished in 1839. The fez, resembling the hat of the Europeans at the time, was introduced and widely used by the Ottoman population, regardless of religious affiliation.

In the Turkish Republic it was considered backward and outlawed in 1925 by the Head Law. In the Balkan countries the fez was regarded an Ottoman (Turkish) symbol and was dropped after gaining independence.

8 Thessaloniki visit of King Juan Carlos: On 27th May 1998 the Spanish Royal couple, King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia visited Thessaloniki. They were received by the Minister of Macedonia and Trace, Philippos Petsalnikos, and he accompanied them to the Holocaust Monument where King Juan Carlos laid a wreath in honor of the memory of the Jewish martyrs.

9 Synagogues in Thessaloniki: Before WWII there were 19 synagogues in Thessaloniki, all of which were blown up by the Germans a short time before the liberation. Already the big fire of 1917 had destroyed most of the synagogues and certainly all the historic synagogues, that is those built before 1680.

Historian Rena Molho accounts that before the big fire there were about a hundred synagogues out of which 32 were recognized by the chief rabbi, 65 private small synagogues belonging to well known families and 17 small public synagogues. [Source: 1. R. Molho, 'The Jews of Thessaloniki. 1856-1919 A special community,' Ed. Themelio, Athens 2001, pp.65, 121. and 2. Helias V. Messinas, 'The Synagogues of Salonica and Veroia,' Ed. Gavrielides, Athens 1997]

10 Beit Saoul Synagogue: It was set up in ca. 1898 on 43 Vassilissis Olgas Street by Fakima Idda Modiano in memory of her husband Saoul Jacob Modiano.

11 Monastir Synagogue (Monastirioton in Greek): Founded in 1923, inaugurated in 1927 by the Aruesti family who during the Balkan Wars (1912-1913), along with other Jewish families of Monastir (today Bitola), sought shelter in the Jewish Community of Thessaloniki and settled in the city. This synagogue survived the destructions during World War II because it was used as the headquarters of the Red Cross.

12 Mizrachi: The word has two meanings: a) East. It designates the Jews who immigrate to Palestine from the Arab countries. Since the 1970s they make up more than half of the Israeli population. b) It is the movement of the Zionists, who firmly hold on to the Torah and the traditions.

The movement was founded in 1902 in Vilnius. The name comes from the abbreviation of the Hebrew term Merchoz Ruchoni (spiritual center). The Mizrachi wanted to build the future Jewish state by enforcing the old Jewish religious, cultural and legal regulations. They recruited followers especially in Eastern Europe and the United States.

In the year after its founding it had 200 organizations in Europe, and in 1908 it opened an office in Palestine too. The first congress of the World Movement was held in 1904 in Pozsony (today Bratislava, Slovakia), where they joined the Basel program of the Zionists, but they emphasized that the Jewish nation had to stand on the grounds of the Torah and the traditions.

The aim of the Mizrach-Mafdal movement is the same in our days too. It supports schools, youth organizations in Israel and in other countries, so that the Jewish people can learn about their religion, and it takes part in the political life of Israel, promoting by this the traditional image of the Jewish state.

(http://www.mizrachi.org/aboutus/default.asp; www.cionista.hu/mizrachi.htm; Magyar Zsidó Lexikon, Budapest, 1929).

13 Matanot Laevionim: Matanot Laevionim was created in February 1901 with the objective of offering free meals to orphans and other poor students of the schools of the Jewish Community. It operated with funds from the community, the help of Alliance Israelite Universelle and other serious legacies left by the founding members or their wives when they became widows.

These funds were used in order to acquire a building in the suburb of Eksohi. In 1912, Matanot Laevionim offered approximately four hundred free meals a day, while after the big fire of Thessaloniki in 1917 it extended its activities and set up one cook house in each neighborhood.

During the occupation it offered great services to the community, as with the assistance of the Greek and the International Red Cross it managed to distribute daily 'popular meals' and half a litter of milk to 5.500 children. [Source: R. Molho, 'The Jews of Thessaloniki 1856-1919. A Unique Community,' Ed. Themelio, Athens 2001, pp.104-106]

14 Alliance Israelite Universelle: An international Jewish organization based in France. It was founded in Paris in 1860 by Adolphe Gremieux, as a response to the Damascus Affair, with the goal to protect human rights of Jews as citizens of the countries where they live.

The organization was created to combine the ideals of self defense and self sufficiency through education and professional development among Jews around the world. In addition, the organization operated a number of Jewish day schools and has done a lot to standardize the Ladino language.

The Alliance schools were organized in network with their Central Committee in Paris. The teaching body was usually the alumni trained in France. The schools emphasized modern sciences and history in their curriculum; nevertheless Hebrew and religion were also taught.

The Alliance Israelite Universelle ideology consisted in teaching the local language to Jews so they could be integrated to their country's culture. This was part of the modernization of the Jews. Most Ottoman Jews, however, did not take up the Turkish language (because it was optional), and as a result a new generation of Ottoman Jews grew up that was more familiar with France and the West than with the surrounding society.

In the Balkans the first school was opened in Greece (Volos) in 1865, then in the Ottoman Empire in Adrianople in 1867, Shumla (Shumen) in 1870 and in Istanbul, Smyrna (Izmir), and Salonika in 1870s. In 1870, Carl Netter of the AIU received a tract of land from the Ottoman Empire as a gift and started an agricultural school, Mikveh Israel, the first modern Jewish agricultural settlement in the Land of Israel.

The modernist Jewish elite and intelligentsia of the late 19th-century Ottoman Empire was known for having graduated from Alliance schools; they were closely attached to the Young Turk circles, and after 1908 three of them (Carasso, Farraggi, and Masliah) were members of the new Ottoman Chamber of Deputies.

15 American College (or Anatolia College): School founded by American missionaries in Merzifon of Asia Minor, in 1886. In 1924, after the invitation of Eleutherios Venizelos, it was transferred to Thessaloniki. During the interwar period it had many Jewish students.

16 ‘151’: After the Fire of 1917, the Jewish Community acquired the large No. 151 hospital, which belonged to the Italian army and was located east of the Thessaloniki. 75 wooden structures and many brick and cement structures were subsequently built to house the fire-stricken Jewish population.

17 3E (Ethniki Enosi Ellados): lit. National Union of Greece, a fascist nationalist organization, founded in 1929 by George Kosmidis. It had about 2000 members, of whom the majority was immigrants. [Source: J. Hondros, 'Occupation and Resistance: the Greek Agony,' New York, 1983]

18 Venizelos, Eleftherios (1864-1936): an eminent Greek revolutionary, a prominent and illustrious statesman as well as a charismatic leader in the early 20th century. Elected several times as Prime Minister of Greece and served from 1910 to 1920 and from 1928 to 1932.

Venizelos had such profound influence on the internal and external affairs of Greece that he is credited with being “the maker of modern Greece.” His impact on modern Greece has been such that he is still widely known as the “Ethnarch.”

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleftherios_Venizelos)

19 Campbell Fire (Pogrom on 29th June 1931): Responsible for the arson of the poor neighborhood Campbell was the Ethniki Enosis Ellas - National Union Greece, short: EEE also known as the 3E or the 'Iron Helmets.'

This organization was the backbone of fascism in Greece in the period between the two World Wars. It was established in Thessaloniki in 1927. The most important element of the 3E political voice was anti-Semitism, an expression mostly of the Christian traders of the city in order to displace the Jewish competitors.

President of the organization was a merchant, Mr. G. Cormides, there was also a secretary, a banker, D. Haritopoulos, and chief spokesman Nikos Fardis, editor-in-chief of the newspaper Makedonia. The occasion for the outbreak of anti-Semitism in Thessaloniki was the inauguration of the new Maccabi Hall in June 1931.

In a principal article signed by Nikos Fardis, from Saturday, 20th June 1931, it was said that Maccabi of Thessaloniki had placed itself in favor of an Autonomous Greek Macedonia. The journalist "revealed" the conspiracy of Jews, Bulgarians, Communists and Catholics against Macedonia.

Two days later, the Ministry of the Interior confirmed the newspaper's allegations despite the strict denial of the Maccabi representatives. All the anti-Semitic and fascist organizations were aroused. This marked the beginning of the riots that resulted in the pogrom of Campbell.

Elefterios Venizelos was again involved after the 1917 fire, speaking at the parliament as Prime Minister, and talked with emphasis about the law-abiding stance of the Jewish population, but simultaneously permitted the prosecution of Maccabi for treason against the state. Let alone the fact that the newspaper Makedonia with the inflaming anti-Semitic publications was clearly pro-Venizelian.

At the trial, held in Veroia ten months later, Fardis and the leaders of EEE were found not guilty while three refugees were found guilty, but with mitigating circumstances and therefore were freed on the spot. It is worth noting that at the 1933 general election, the Jews of Thessaloniki, in one block voted against Venizelos. [Source: Bernard Pierron, 'Juifs et chrétiens de la Grèce moderne,' Harmattan, Paris 1996, pp. 179-198]

20 The Fire of Thessaloniki: In the night of 18th August 1917, an enormous fire, fed by the famous Vardar wind, destroyed the city centre where most of the Jews lived. It was a region of 227 hectares, where 15,000 families lived, 10,000 of them were Jewish families which were deprived of their homes.

The Jews were hit the hardest, since more than two thirds of the property destroyed by the fire was Jewish and only a tenth of that immense fortune was insured. Nearly all the schools, 32 synagogues, 50 oratories, all the cultural centers, libraries, clubs, etc. were annihilated.

Despite of the aid of a sum of 40,000 golden pounds collected from all over the world, the community never recovered from that disaster. The Jewish face of the city that had been there for more than five centuries was wiped out in 36 hours.

25,000, out of 53,000 of the stricken Jews that belonged mostly to the lower and middle class, were forced to live in the working-class districts that were hastily built in a rudimentary fashion. (Source: Rena Molho, 'Jewish Working-Class Neighborhoods established in Salonica Following the 1890 and the 1917 Fires,' in Rena Molho, 'Salonica and Istanbul: Social, Political and Cultural Aspects of Jewish Life,' The Isis Press, Istanbul, 2005, pp.107-126.)

21 Hirsch [Clara de] Hospital: It was inaugurated in May 4th, 1908, exactly ten years after the donation of Baroness Clara de Hirsch who had died in the meantime. Her condition for the donation of 200,000 golden francs, once off for the construction of a 100-bed hospital and 30.000 francs per year for its maintenance was that an equal amount of money would be given by the Jewish Community.

In order to cover the second part there were many public fund raising efforts and a special committee was formed in order to supervise the details of the construction. The hospital manager was Doctor Misrahee and it employed the most specialized doctors of the city.

During WWI it became a military hospital which was returned to the community in 1919. After the end of WWII the hospital was sold to the Greek State on the condition that the label with the name of Baroness de Hirsch would remain intact. This was respected only during the first decades.

Today the label cannot be seen, while some of the marble plaques where the names of other Jews donators were written, were taken out and others were covered with many layers of paint. (Source: 1. R.Molho, “The Jews of Thessaloniki 1856-1919 A special community” Ed. Themelio, Athens 2001, pp.96-101)

22 An-ski, Szymon (pen name of Szlojme Zajnwel Rapaport) (1863-1920): Writer, ethnographer, socialist activist. Born in a village near Vitebsk. In his youth he was an advocate of haskalah, but later joined the radical movement Narodnaya Vola. Under threat of arrest he left Russia in 1892 but returned there in 1905.

From 1911-14 he led an ethnographic expedition researching the folklore of the Jews of Podolye and Volhynia. During the war he organized committees bringing aid to Jewish victims of the conflict and pogroms.

In 1918 he became involved in organizing cultural life in Vilnius, as a co-founder of the Union of Jewish Writers and Journalists and the Jewish Ethnographic Society. Two years before his death he moved to Warsaw. He is the author of the Bund party's anthem, 'Di shvue' (Yid. oath).

The participation of the Bund in the Revolution of 1905 influenced An-ski's decision to write in Yiddish. In his later work he used elements of Jewish legends collected during his ethnographic expedition and his experiences from WWI.

His most famous work is The Dybbuk (which to this day remains one of the most popular Yiddish works for the stage). An-ski's entire literary and scientific oeuvre was published in Warsaw in 1920-25 as a 15-volume edition.

23 Cinema Palace: The sign post at the front of the cinema was in three languages: French, Greek and Hebrew. Palace was also a theater. Performances were organized there as early as 1935.  On2nd January 1942 the Germans confiscated it, changed its name to “Soldatenbühne” (Soldiers’ Stage) and it was a theater  for German soldiers only.

(Source: Costas Tomanas, “theaters in old Thessaloniki” Ed. Nisides, Thessaloniki 1994)

24 Thessaloniki International Trade Fair

Taking place every September since its foundation in 1926, it has always been a very important economic as well as cultural city event. For the last few years the Fair has been a pole of attraction and the "place" where the political program of the government is being presented and assessed.

25 Penelope Delta (1874-1941)

Greek writer of books for older children.

Her three major novels are: ‘Trellantonis’ (Crazy Anthony; 1932), which detailed her mischievous elder brother's Antonis Benakis childhood adventures in late 19th century Alexandria, ‘Mangas’ (1935), which was about the not dissimilar adventures of the family's fox terrier dog, and ‘Ta Mystika tou Valtou’ (The Secrets of the Swamp; 1937), which was set around Giannitsa Lake in the early 20th century, when the Greek struggle for Macedonia was unfolding.

She committed suicide on 27th April 1941, the very day Wehrmacht troops entered Athens. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penelope_Delta)

26 Greek-Albanian War/Greek-Italian War (1940-1941)

Greece was drawn into WWII when Italian troops crossed the borders of Albania and violated Greek territory on 28th October 1940. The Italian attack of Greece seemed obvious, despite the stated disagreement of Hitler and the efforts of Ioannis Metaxas, who was trying to trying to keep the country in a neutral stance.

Following a series of warning signs, culminating in the sinking of Battleship 'Elli' on 15th August 1940, by Italian torpedoes, and all of these failing to provoke the Greek government to react, the Italian Ultimatum was delivered on 28th October 1940, and it demanded the free passage of the Italian army through Greek soil, as well as sole control of a series of strategic points of the country.

The rejection of the ultimatum by Metaxas was in line with the public opinion in Greece and led to the immediate declaration of war by Italy against Greece. This war took place mostly in the mountains of Hepeirous.

In the Greek-Albanian War approximately 12.500 Greek Jews took part and 513 Greek Jews died fighting. The Greek counter-offensive pushed the Italians deep into Albania and the Greek army maintained the initiative throughout the winter capturing the southern Albanian towns of Corce, Aghioi Saranda, and Girocaster. [Source: Thanos Veremis, Mark Dragoumis, 'Historical Dictionary of Greece' (London 1995)]

27 Righteous Among the Nations: A medal and honorary title awarded to people who during the Holocaust selflessly and for humanitarian reasons helped Jews. It was instituted in 1953. Awarded by a special commission headed by a justice of the Israeli Supreme Court, which works in the Yad Vashem National Remembrance Institute in Jerusalem.

During the ceremony the persons recognized receive a diploma and a medal with the inscription "Whoever saves one life, saves the entire world" and plant a tree in the Avenue of the Righteous on the Remembrance Hill in Jerusalem, which is marked with plaques bearing their names.

Since 1985 the Righteous receive honorary citizenship of Israel. So far over 20,000 people have been distinguished with the title, including almost 6,000 Poles.

28 Yad Vashem: This museum, founded in 1953 in Jerusalem, honors both Holocaust martyrs and 'the Righteous Among the Nations', non-Jewish rescuers who have been recognized for their 'compassion, courage and morality'.

29 Archbishop Damaskinos Papandreou (1891-1949): Archbishop of Athens and All Greece from 1941 until his death. He was also the regent of Greece between the pull-out of the German occupation force in 1944 and the return of King Georgios II to Greece in 1946. 

His rule was between the liberation of Greece from the German occupation during World War II and the Greek Civil War.

(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archbishop_Damaskinos)

30 Evert, Angelos: Athens police chief during 1943, ordered false identification cards to be issued to all Jews requesting them.

(Source: http://www.ushmm.org/museum/exhibit/online/greece/nonflash/eng/athens.htm)

31 Bergen-Belsen : Concentration camp located in northern Germany. Bergen-Belsen was established in April 1943 as a  detention camp for prisoners who were to be exchanged with Germans imprisoned in Allied countries. Bergen-Belsen was liberated by the British army on 15th April, 1945.

The soldiers were shocked at what they found, including 60,000 prisoners in the camp, many on the brink of death, and thousands of unburied bodies lying about. (Source: Rozett R. - Spector S.: Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Facts on File, G.G. The Jerusalem Publishing House Ltd. 2000, pg. 139 -141) 

32 Creation of the State of Israel: From 1917 Palestine was a British mandate. Also in 1917 the Balfour Declaration was published, which supported the idea of the creation of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. Throughout the interwar period, Jews were migrating to Palestine, which caused the conflict with the local Arabs to escalate.

On the other hand, British restrictions on immigration sparked increasing opposition to the mandate powers. Immediately after World War II there were increasing numbers of terrorist attacks designed to force Britain to recognize the right of the Jews to their own state. These aspirations provoked the hostile reaction of the Palestinian Arabs and the Arab states.

In February 1947 the British foreign minister Ernest Bevin ceded the Palestinian mandate to the UN, which took the decision to divide Palestine into a Jewish section and an Arab section and to create an independent Jewish state.

On 14th May 1948 David Ben Gurion proclaimed the creation of the State of Israel.

It was recognized immediately by the US and the USSR. On the following day the armies of Egypt, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Iraq, Syria and Lebanon attacked Israel, starting a war that continued, with intermissions, until the beginning of 1949 and ended in a truce.

33 Brunner, Alois (born 1912, reports of death contested): Austrian Nazi war criminal. Brunner was Adolf Eichmann's assistant, and Eichmann referred to Brunner as his “best man.” As commander of the Drancy internment camp outside Paris from June 1943 to August 1944, Alois Brunner is held responsible for sending some 140,000 European Jews to the gas chambers.

Nearly 24,000 of them were deported from the Drancy camp. He was condemned in absentia in France in 1954 to a life sentence for crimes against humanity. In 2003, The Guardian described him as “the world's highest-ranking Nazi fugitive believed still alive.” Brunner was last reported to be living in Syria, where the government has so far rebuffed international efforts to locate or apprehend him.

(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alois_Brunner)

34 Birkenau (Pol.: Brzezinka): Also known as Auschwitz II. Set up in October 1941 following a decision by Heinrich Himmler in the village of Brzezinka (Ger.: Birkenau) close to Auschwitz, as a prisoner-of-war camp.  It retained this title until March 1944, although it was never used as a POW camp.

It comprised sectors of wooden sheds for different types of prisoners (women, men, Jewish families from Terezin, Roma, etc.), and continued to be expanded until the end of 1943.

From the beginning of 1942 it was an extermination camp. The Birkenau camp covered a total area of 140 ha and comprised some 300 sheds variously used as living quarters, ancillary quarters and crematoria.

Birkenau, Auschwitz I and scores of satellite camps made up the largest center for extermination of the Jews. The majority of the Jews deported here were sent straight to the gas chambers to be put to death immediately, without registration.

There were 400,000 prisoners registered there for longer periods, half of whom were Jews. The second-largest group of prisoners were Poles (140,000). Prisoners died en mass as a result of slave labor, starvation, the inhuman living conditions, beatings, torture and executions.

The bodies of those murdered were initially buried and later burned in the crematoria and on pyres in specially dug pits. Due to the efforts made by the SS to erase the evidence of their crimes and their destruction of the majority of the documentation on the prisoners, and also to the fact that the Soviet forces seized the remaining documentation, it is impossible to establish the exact number of victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau. On the basis of the fragmentary documentation available, it can be assumed that in total approx. 1.5 million prisoners were murdered in Auschwitz-Birkenau, some 90% of who were Jews.

35 Wiesel, Eliezer (commonly known as Elie) (born 1928): World-renowned novelist, philosopher, humanitarian and political activist. He is the author of over forty books. In 1986, Wiesel was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Wiesel teaches at Boston University and serves as the Chairman of The Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity.

Edit Deutsch

Edit Deutsch
Budapest
Hungary
Interviewers: Dora Sardi, Eszter Andor
Date of interview: December 2001

My family background
Growing up
During the war
Post-war
Glossary

My family background

The Czitrom family originates from Spain. At the time of the expulsion in 1492, a lot of Jews came to Europe, and the Czitroms were amongst them. Of the Czitroms, many went to France and also to other countries. Our family came here from Germany. They were already living here in the 1800s. Their mother tongue was Hungarian, but I don’t know whether they spoke German as well. They probably did. There are also a lot of Czitroms in Transylvania. I know that there was a rabbi named Czitrom in Debrecen too. But he could only have been a very distant relative, if he was a relative at all, because I know the descendants of all six children of my paternal great-grandfather.
My paternal great-grandfather was Benjamin Czitrom. He was religious, and he wore a hat and a beard and had earlocks. By profession he was a kind of farm manager. He lived in Berettyoujfalu. His wife was Lidia Asztalos. They raised six children: Rezi, born in 1869, Regina, born in 1871, Jeno, born in 1877, Bela, born in 1879, Sarolta, born in 1884, and Miksa.

Miksa was my grandfather. He was born in Berettyoujfalu in 1870. He and his brothers and sisters became orphans at an early age. Miksa was in his teens and he was a street-porter at first, I think. However, that wasn’t in Berettyoujfalu, they had moved from there, but I don’t know when. Later, he worked his way up by himself, and worked in some sort of official post in the capital [Budapest]. He was living in Soroksar when he met my grandmother, Adel Fekete, born in Nagyvazsony in 1875. They were already in Budapest when they got married. They had three sons: Tibor, Laszlo, my father, and Ede. My father was the middle boy, so he was the most disadvantaged because Tibor was the big child, and Ede was the spoilt little one.

Tibor was a bank officer, and so was Ede. But both of them Magyarized their names before the war; Tibor to Rethei; I don’t remember what Ede’s new name was. Ede had a daughter, Agi, she lives in America and has two or three boys there.

I was six years old when my grandmother died. My grandfather had died earlier. I remember having been to the Fekete family, my grandmother’s siblings. I’m sure they kept the high holidays because I remember that my mother told me that they went to their place on foot on Yom Kippur, and they stayed there for supper. Things like sewing couldn’t be done on Saturday, nor washing and ironing. They must have been moderately religious. And so was the Czitrom family. My grandparents were quite religious; I know that my father had had a fiancee before my mother. She was also a socialist and didn’t want to get married in the synagogue. His parents didn’t give their consent to the marriage because they wouldn’t allow my father to get married without a synagogue wedding. I know from my mother that they had horsemeat soup [which is not kosher] at their house, but they didn’t tell him that that’s what it was.

My father was born in August 1901. He probably graduated from some kind of industrial school. He learnt the mechanic or locksmith trade. Perhaps he didn’t even want to study, though he taught himself a lot; I saw lots of books on mechanics and other subjects in his home after the war. He took different jobs: anything from mechanic to locksmith jobs. I know that during the war, he worked in the petroleum factory.

My father got along very well with his Uncle Bela, my grandfather’s brother, who was a socialist and had worker’s sentiments. Bela was the leader of the Leather Union. He was probably some kind of leather worker. He lived in Zuglo with his family.
My mother, Ilona Fischer, was an only child. Her mother was Irma Schwartz, born in 1883, and her father was Mihaly Fischer, born in 1880. Both of them were from Gyoma. My mother was born in Gyoma in 1905, but only because her mother went home to have the baby – they already lived in Ujpest at that time. My grandfather was already dead at the time of mother’s engagement, back in 1931.
My maternal grandmother spoke Yiddish, though her mother tongue was probably Hungarian. But our mother already didn’t speak it. She understood it, so if my grandmother didn’t want the children to understand what they were talking about, she spoke to my mother in Yiddish. I don’t think my grandmother was kosher, and she didn’t have a wig either. I remember, that she told us that her mother, my great-grandmother, had a cooking shack and she used to go and cook for construction workers.

My grandmother had a younger sister and a brother. I know that her sister, Auntie Bella, became the wife of Ferenc Grosz in Bekescsaba, and there were six children, who came after each other like pipes of an organ, as I saw them in photographs. The oldest girl, Boriska, went to France before the war and she was the only one in this family to survive, except for Ferenc Grosz because he also survived the war. My grandmother and Auntie Bella and the other children perished in Auschwitz.

My mum was a dependent before the war; she was at home with her four children. The village tradition, which had come from her grandmother, or from her great-grandmother, says that it isn’t good for a child to know more than its mother. My mum completed six elementary classes. Otherwise she was very smart because I remember that when I studied physics in the 8th grade, she could help me.

Growing up

Before the war, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen. My mother, my father and us, children, slept in the room, and my grandmother stayed in the kitchen. And the monthly rent was my father’s salary for one week, so we were poor, even before the war.

We went to the synagogue on Gyorgy Dozsa Street once in a while. But we went more often to the movie theater, which was there, too. We weren’t religious. My mother fasted duly. My father drank water occasionally, sometimes in secret, during the fasting. But my mother was kosher, she knew what to do and how to do it. She also knew that the liver has to be made kosher on the cooking-plate. So, she was kosher. It wasn’t like it was in many Jewish houses. In our house things weren’t separated so that there were special dairy utensils – but we didn’t wash the utensils used for meat products together with those used for diary products. I have never washed them together to this day. There was no pork, there was no lard, but mostly poultry. But there was no rigorous observance of the kashrut, only that this cleanliness had roots in the kashrut. I remember, there were special cakes at Yom Kippur, Purim and Rosh Hashanah.

As I went to a state school, religion classes were held separately, and I had to go to another school for those. I know that my mother was good friends with the mothers of the children I went to religion classes with, but there was no special circle of friends. My mother had one girlfriend; she was Jewish. In the evenings she played merils or other similar games with my father by the light of the oil lamp.

I had a relative, Aunt Piri, who lived in Kisterenye with her husband. She was the cousin of my maternal grandmother and I went there two or three times for summer holidays. They lived in a rented house. Auntie Piri was a dressmaker; Uncle Guszti probably worked in a factory. They couldn’t have been very religious because when we were coming home on the way to the railway station, I remember that we went into a shop, and they gave me a kind of bread, into which they must have cut pork products. Uncle Guszti said, ‘It’s tasty, isn’t it? You haven’t eaten anything this good’. So they weren’t religious either. Uncle Guszti survived the war, but Auntie Piri didn’t.

I was born in 1935, my brother Rudolf in 1933, Klari in 1937, and my youngest sister, Gabriella, in 1943.

During the war

During the war, my mum, we four children, and my maternal grandmother lived on 18 Sip Street in the ghetto. First we were in a yellow star house 1. My mother fell into that age group from which the women were summoned to the brick-factory. Many of them from the house went there. One of the women called her to come. My mother arranged the family first, and by the time she got there, there were so many in the brick-factory, that those who had a child under three were let go. She came back to the yellow star house from the brick-factory. There were a lot of people in one apartment in the ghetto, but as there were six of us, we had a room that had a double-drawer bed, and we slept on that, all six of us. We ate potato-peel soup, and similar things, so we didn’t starve to death. We could go to some kitchen on Sip Street where they gave us cooked meals occasionally, and we had whatever we had been able to take with us on our backs from the yellow star house. I remember that I found a cup of apple seeds in the larder, and that was very tasty. We ate that bit by bit; we rationed it.
My father was taken to forced labor. He was at home to visit one week, and was going to come back the following week. While we were waiting for him one late afternoon or evening, a member of the skeleton staff appeared, and said that my father hadn’t gone back to Keleti railway station. He hadn’t come home either. He’d just disappeared, but there had been a shooting right around Keleti; so we don’t know exactly what happened to him.

Post-war

After the war, we were in a Joint 2 home for a while. We were in Budapest first. It was like an orphanage, or a boarding house, and we went to school from there. We used to go home in the summer. I was there for two years; I completed the 4th and 5th grades there. My sister transferred to Szeged a year earlier.

After the war, we ran a shop. During the Rakosi regime 3 the taxes were higher than my mother’s income, so she gave up this endeavor. Perhaps also because she didn’t want the children to be recorded as ‘class-alien’ at school. She delivered to the South-Pest Factory Catering.
My brother made aliyah. My mother said she wouldn’t let the girls, but would let a boy, go without parents. At the end of 1947 already, he left with those who couldn’t get in anymore, so he was in Cyprus for a while, and in Italy [in a DP camp]. He was posted into the kibbutz, so that he would learn the carpenter trade, but all his life he wanted to become an electrician. So later he studied to be an electrician and auto-electrician. He had two children, both born in Israel. His wife was a Jewish girl of Belgian origin. My brother later divorced her. Eva, his current wife, is of Hungarian origin. Hungarian culture is important to my brother, he couldn’t live with a woman whose culture isn’t Hungarian.

Klari was a miller, a skilled laborer. In those times the children were taught at school in such a way that they had to learn a trade. She got married to a Christian boy named Andras Szabo in 1951. There were no Jewish boys because the boys went to Israel earlier than the girls did. And the boys didn’t insist on Jewish girls that much. At the place where she worked there weren’t really any Jews, only Jew-bashings. Her husband became an independent craftsman, a tool-maker. He made tools for export, and he did his private work in his own workshop, in their house. Klari also worked in the workshop. They have two daughters.

Gabriella worked in the catering industry. She was a trainee at Csemege [socialist food-shop chain], then a saleswoman. She graduated from the evening faculty of a commercial secondary school, and she learnt bilateral chartered accounting while she was working. Now she is a deputy head book-keeper. She also had to make do with a goy [Gentile]. She had Jewish suitors, two actually, but finally, to avoid staying an old maid, she got married to Laszlo Legendi; she wasn’t young any more. They don’t have children.

After completing eight years of elementary school I dropped out of technical school due to great poverty. I worked for a year and took a special matriculation exam. We were almost starving on my mother’s salary in the Rakosi era. I was able to go to the special graduation exams because I starved less when I worked and earned 400 forints per month in the stationary factory for a year. There was a dormitory, there was breakfast, lunch and dinner and there was, I think, a stipend of 70 forints.

After that I went to the teacher training college as a mathematics-physics major. I taught there, in the 13th district, in Domb Street elementary school, and in the meantime I qualified as a teacher of mathematics at university. The headmistress was a very decent Jew, but she was a member of the Party, and she was always nagging me to join. And so I became a party member quite early and I was a pioneer-team leader. I did my work diligently in Domb Street for ten years, then I went into computing, working for a company named Imperol [which later became SZAMALK]. I was a programming mathematician, later I became a program-developer, a program designer, and system developer. And later, the Central Comittee of the Hungarian Socalist Worker’s Party asked for a person for the computing centre. SZAMALK recommended me for this programmer position. Later, I was the computer-system manager of the library.

Where I worked [in the school], there were no Jews among my collegues, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to love a non-Jew. So that’s probably why I didn’t fall in love with any of the boys. I lived with my mother, I nursed her, and I got married very late.

I met my husband, Ferenc Deutsch, when he was at home on a visit from America, not long after the death of his third wife. We have an apartment here, and we have an apartment in America. We live here for half a year, and there for half a year. I’m learning English and we have many friends there, too.

Glossary

1 Yellow star houses

The system of exclusively Jewish houses, which acted as a form of hostage taking, was introduced by Hungarian authorities in Budapest in June 1944. The authorities believed that if they concentrated all the Jews of Budapest in the ghetto, the Allies would not attack it, but if they placed such houses all over Budapest, especially near important public buildings it was a kind of guarantee. Jews were only allowed to leave such houses for two hours a day to buy supplies and such.

2 Joint (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee)

The Joint was formed in 1914 with the fusion of three American Jewish committees of assistance, which were alarmed by the suffering of Jews during WWI. In late 1944, the Joint entered Europe’s liberated areas and organized a massive relief operation. It provided food for Jewish survivors all over Europe, it supplied clothing, books and school supplies for children. It supported cultural amenities and brought religious supplies for the Jewish communities. The Joint also operated DP camps, in which it organized retraining programs to help people learn trades that would enable them to earn a living, while its cultural and religious activities helped re-establish Jewish life. The Joint was also closely involved in helping Jews to emigrate from Europe and from Muslim countries. The Joint was expelled from East Central Europe for decades during the Cold War and it has only come back to many of these countries after the fall of communism. Today the Joint provides social welfare programs for elderly Holocaust survivors and encourages Jewish renewal and communal development.

3 Rakosi regime

Matyas Rakosi was a Stalinist Hungarian leader between 1948-1956. He introduced an absolute communist terror, established a Stalinist type cult for himself and was responsible for the show trials of the early 1950s. After the Revolution of 1956, he went to the Soviet Union and died there.

Grigory Erenburg

Grigory Erenburg 
St. Petersburg 
Russia 
Interviewer: Ludmila Liuban 

  • My family background

I was born in 1927 in the Jewish borough of Shzedrin, of Parichsky district, near Bobruisk, in Belorussia. My ancestors were Ashkenazi Jews, some of them from Lithuania. All of my grandparents lived in Belorussia. I also remember my great-grandfather on Father’s side, the father of his mother. His name was Zavl, and he lived 106 years. He was a strong, sturdy old man, rosy-cheeked and blue-eyed. He used to make brooms of twigs for people in Shzedrin. There was not much work in the borough, and that is why nobody ever infringed upon his “daily bread.”

He died in the 1930s. His son, my grandfather on the paternal side, David Leib Erenburg, was born in the 1870s. He lived in Shzedrin; he kept horses and was a cabman by trade. He loved horses very much. He carried both cargo and passengers, for instance, to Parichi, a town on Berezina River. In 1929, he joined the collective farm “Sotsveg” (Socialistic Way), one of the first Jewish collective farms in the country, which was organized in Shzedrin in the 1920s.

Just like all Jews of Shzedrin, where the majority of inhabitants were hasids, David was a faithfully religious man. Every day he prayed in synagogue. When I grew up a little, he took me with him to synagogue. I remember him putting on a tallit;  he always wore a small tallit under his clothes. Before his prayers, he put on tefillin.

My grandmother Dveira was born in Shzedrin in 1871. She was a housewife. She was an illiterate woman who understood neither Russian nor Belorussian, and spoke only Yiddish. She, just like my grandfather, was religious. The family kept all Jewish traditions – kashrut, Shabbat and celebrated every Jewish holiday. On Friday, they made fire in their stove at lunchtime, and cooked delicious food for Saturday.

The lamp light was turned on and off by children, as they were innocent. It was the same in every other house of the borough. If a family was very poor, the Jewish community provided it with support. If a man was traveling at the time, or was a student, he could be hosted by some Jewish family. On holidays, particularly on Passover, special beautiful dishes were used; we stored them in the attic. There were such dishes in every house, and poor ones were not an exception. 

Grandmother Dveira kept the house and brought up the children. She bore many children, but boys died in infancy. Altogether, five children survived. The elder daughter left for America in the 1920s; her husband was a construction worker. She lived until very old age, and in 1969 she came to the USSR to see us. There were more three sisters: Shima Lea (Sima), Perla and Frada. My father, Berl (Boris), was the only surviving son.

Grandfather David and Grandmother Dveira in 1936 moved to Bobruisk. They had a house of their own, with a big garden. Grandfather did not work then; the children supported them. He did not go to synagogue every day; he often prayed at home, because he was old, and the synagogue was far from home. But all Jewish traditions were kept in the house.

My grandfather on my mother’s side, Herz El, was grandfather’s David contemporary, and was also born in Belorussia. He was a musician; he played  the trumpet at weddings. He lived with his family in Shzedrin. He died in 1909 of tuberculosis.

His wife, Khaya Gita El, nee Ekelchikle, was born in 1870s, supposedly in Lithuania. She did not get any education. She kept the house and brought up the children. After the death of her husband, she was left alone with eight children. To earn her living, she worked for the rich Jews. One of her occupations was to make down by plucking goose feathers. They were flying everywhere. Down sold well; even the poorest Jews in Shzedrin slept on down pillows. Grandmother also made cereals, lokshen and farfel.

Grandmother Khaya was a very benevolent person, an optimist, always trying to be good to people. Like other Shzedrin inhabitants, she was religious. Her native language was Yiddish, though she knew Russian and Belorussian, too. All Jewish traditions were kept in the house; she went to synagogue every Friday.

Her two eldest sons and daughter Elka went to America in 1924. Her son Аron perished during the Civil War, as a soldier in the Red Army. There were four other children: Iosif and three daughters – Henda, Hava and Rachel, my mother. Grandmother died before the war, in 1938, and was buried in Shzedrin.

My parents stayed in Shzedrin. They had known each other since their youth, and had gone to dancing parties together. It was in this little town that my grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts lived. I also was born in Shzedrin. The lives and the deaths of many a member of our family were connected with this Jewish settlement.

Shzedrin has a very interesting background. The village was not far from Bobruisk. The czar, Nicolas I, often came to Bobruisk to supervise the reconstruction of the military fortress. During one of his visits, somewhere in 1840s, the local authorities had issued an order for beautiful young women to stand along the route of the cortege as it passed. There was a rumor that Jewish girls had also to “serve” the officers in the barracks. Jews of Bobruisk became seized with terror. To protect their daughters, they disfigured them; the mothers shaved and tarred their daughters’ heads.

When a young officer from the czar’s retinue approached Esterka, a young and beautiful girl, and asked for her name and address, it became clear they had to flee. That night Esterka and her father, masked as beggars, secretly left town, but almost ran across that officer as he was walking to their door.

In the 19th  century, the Russian government was trying to colonize lands with Jews. For this, the government granted an important benefit: exemption from army service. In 1842, the 40 Jewish families living in the Bobruisk vicinity bought  600 desyatina of land from a local landowner, including the village of Shzedrin. They were hasids, and the purchase was registered in the name of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who became an honorary citizen of Shzedrin.

The majority of Jews were occupied with agriculture, others were in trade – sales of wood. Later, many craftsmen arrived. In 1897, according to the population census, about 4,022 people lived in the borough. There were seven synagogues in Shzedrin, and even a Talmud Тоrаh. Because Lubavitch hasids were the majority of population, there also was a Lubavitch yeshiva in the borough.

The revolution of 1905 touched Shzedrin. There were local organizations of various parties: the Bund, Poalei Zion, Social Democrats – there were even anarchists. In 1918, Shzedrin was occupied by the Germans; when the Germans left, they were replaced by the Poles. But still,  the borough was developing, little by little. Our library, which existed since 1905, formally became an official library. 

It had about 600 books in Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian; lectures were held there. A four-year school was opened; it was one of the first in Belorussia where the instruction was in Yiddish.

In the late 1920s one of the first successful Jewish collective farms was founded. I remember this collective farm where my grandfather David worked since 1929. The farm was rich; there were lots of fields, gardens, a goose farm, a canned-food plant, and a dairy factory.

But the population of the borough began to decrease. The youth went to the city to study; many people, and our relatives among them, left for America. A population census in 1931 showed there were 2,021 people living in Shzedrin. Before the war, there was no electricity; no water supply in the borough. The roads were mostly unpaved. There were no cars; people traveled on horses.

My father, Boris Davidovich Erenburg, was born in Shzedrin in 1907. The family was poor. He became a shoemaker’s apprentice very early. At the age of 16, he started to work on his own. As there was not much work in Shzedrin, he worked in the adjacent villages. He came to a village, collected orders, lived with one family, then with another where he worked.

Those were Belorussian families, but meals were cooked for him separately, because he ate only kosher food. He was a good shoemaker, and he was paid for his work in kind. On Fridays, he used to return to Shzedrin and go to synagogue.

My mother, Rachel Herzevna Erenburg (nee El), was also born in Shzedrin in 1907. She graduated from a Jewish elementary school. In her youth, she helped her mother around the house; in the vegetable garden; worked for the rich Jews, as day labor; for the candy factory; and even as a hairdresser. But one day, clippers had stuck in the client’s hair, and she quit the job. She was hard-working, joyful and sang well – everyone used to sing in her family – and acted in an amateur theater.

Mother’s sister Henda, born in 1905, was a housewife. Her husband worked in the supply business, and they had two sons.  They lived in Vetka. The elder, Herz, was a student in Gomel, and he was in love with a Russian girl. When the war started, he joined the partisans. When Herz came back to Vetka, his beloved betrayed him, and the Germans shot him. Henda with her husband, Haim, and son Alexander, born in 1930, were evacuated to Asia, where she died in 1943. Alexander later graduated from Gomel Institute of Law, worked as a deputy director of a large enterprise, and died  in the 1980s. One of his sons heads a construction company; the other is a pediatric surgeon. Both of them reside in Gomel.

My mother’s other sister, Hava (Eva), was born in 1910. She was a housewife, and her husband was an electrician. They lived in Bobruisk, in a house with us. They had three children; the last child had been born a week before the war.  The husband was called up to the army, and was killed shortly after. Hava and the children moved to Shzedrin to stay with her brother Iosif.

Iosif, born in 1930, was a cutter, and lived with his family in Shzedrin. His wife, Hava, was a housewife, and they had four children. Their elder son was enrolled in a military college in 1940. He went through the entire war as an officer, was twice injured, and was demobilized with the rank of major in the 1950s. His son became an engineer and now lives with his family in Nizhnevartovsk.

Khaya, Iosif’s wife, with Aron, her younger son born in 1938, had also escaped. Before the war they went to Crimea, to visit Khaya’s sister, and that saved their lives. During the war, Khaya was a cook in a military college evacuated to Karelia. Hava, with her three children, and Iosif, with his two sons, were shot by Germans in Shzedrin in 1942. 

  • Growing up in time of war

After my parents married in 1926, my mother was a housewife. I was born in 1927. In 1930, my father left for Bobruisk, got a job in a plywood manufacturing plant, and in 1931 brought his family to Bobruisk. First they bought a small house in the outskirts. Mother kept a cow, and all the milk was for sale. They saved the money, and in 1934 they bought a big house in the center of the city. There was a goat too, and everybody drank goat’s milk.

There were four children in our family. I was the eldest. I turned 14 before the war. My brother Iakov was born in 1931, sister Olga, in 1935, and Eugenia in 1939. Though we lived a modest life, we were a united and jolly family. All Jewish traditions were observed, but Mother and Father went to synagogue only on Yom Kippur.

Our home was large and open to all relatives and friends. Father had lots of acquaintances in the Belorussian villages around Shzedrin, from the time he worked there as shoemaker. His friends from the villages used to come to Bobruisk and stay with us. One of his friends asked Father to house his daughter Frosya two years before the war. She found a job on a garment factory, and lived with us.

When the war started, Bobruisk was almost instantly bombed. The authorities ordered everybody to leave the town.  We went to Shzedrin by foot, but Germans arrived there very soon. Not to trouble our relatives, we decided to return to Bobruisk, where we had left all our belongings. Daddy went first. Frosya was the next to go, to gather her things.

She came back and said that our house was intact, that Father was all right, that he had found a job and was receiving a good ration and wanted us to join him.  And so we all – my mother, brother, little sisters and grandparents walked to Bobruisk. But it turned out that Frosya had deceived us; her father had become a policeman for the Germans. Our home had been robbed, Father had no job, and Jews were ordered to wear yellow stars on their clothes. We were not permitted to communicate with Belorussians. Father was very scared when he saw us.

That was in August. The first execution of Jews took place on September 9, 1941, when Germans killed all the men. When they arrived in our house, Father was lucky to escape and hide in the shed. I, a boy,  was left alone. But Grandfather David, who was praying at that moment, was dragged out of the house and killed. From that day we hid Father in the shed. At the end of September, some peasants came from the village to take away old or sick horses. They had a pass for 12 persons, and they were only 11. We managed to convince them to take Father with them. He was a blonde and didn’t look Jewish. But Father refused to go; he stayed in Shzedrin.

On October 22, the Jews of Bobruisk were ordered to move to the ghetto – the territory of a destroyed aerodrome – within three days. Our family and five more families lived in one 25-meter room, one-third of which was occupied by our belongings. The ghetto was surrounded with a barbed-wire fence and the guards would shoot to kill if someone tried to escape.

On October 25, the last day that Jews were allowed to appear in the city, a Russian peasant we knew came to us, and Mother persuaded him to take me with him. I, like Father, did not look Jewish. The peasant did not have children, and he offered to let me stay with him and pass myself off as his nephew from Western Belorussia. But I fled to my father in Shzedrin.

We hoped to free Mother and the children from the ghetto somehow, but on November 7, the Germans shot 30,000 Jews from Bobruisk, including Mother, Grandmother, my little brother, sisters and our other relatives.

In Shzedrin, the Germans organized a ghetto, too, where Jews worked, particularly in mechanical workshops, to supply the German army. People lived in their own houses. Shzedrin was not fenced with barbed wire, but Jews had no right to leave, otherwise, the Germans threatened to kill the other Jews who remained captive in the ghetto.
Father and I were permitted to leave sometimes and earn a little by our shoe business in the neighboring village of Kitin, and in the evening we would return and check in at the commandant's office. Our earnings were divided among our relatives; everyone was starving in the ghetto.

On March 8, 1942, the Germans began to shoot Jews of Shzedrin. The fascists took the inhabitants of the ghetto to the cemetery. They made the people get into ditches that had been dug earlier, then they shot them and covered them with earth. That day we were in Kitin. The policemen allowed us to remain there till morning and assigned two guards to watch us. We played cards with them. Then I asked permission to go to the toilet outside, and Father had come out with me – and without our coats, we ran away.

We tried to get help in some houses, but peasants were afraid to hide us because they would have been shot immediately, along with their families. But we were given some clothes. The last man we spoke to appeared to be a partisan messenger. He told us how to get to the Rudobelsky partisan area. We reached there by a miracle. None of the Jews in Shzedrin survived; about 1,500 people were executed.

From March 10, 1942, till June 26, 1944, Father and I were in the partisan group. I fought in battle; Father was a shoemaker. I was a well-read young man, wrote partisan leaflets, listened to the radio, copied reports. The destiny of partisan area itself was awful. The fascists almost burned it out, together with the inhabitants of  eight or nine villages. I shall never forget mountains of smoking corpses, children with their heads cut off, women with their stomachs ripped open. The partisans broke into small groups. We lived in a bog surrounded by Germans, starved and frozen.

When we merged with the Red Army, the groups were disbanded. Those fit for service wear taken to the army. Father and I returned to Shzedrin, where Father organized a footwear and sewing guild, and I was enlisted in a fighting brigade, which was capturing German policemen in the woods.

The destiny of almost all our relatives, my uncles and aunts both on Mother’s and Father’s sides, is tragic. My father’s sister Shima Lea, born in 1904, was a housewife; her husband was a mechanic at a sewing factory. They lived in Bobruisk before the war and had three children. Her husband perished in the beginning of the war at the front; Sima and her three children were executed by Germans in Shzedrin in 1942.

His sister Perla worked at a sewing factory before the war, and her husband worked in the wood-processing plant in Bobruisk. They had one son. Another sister, Frada, was a bookkeeper, and was single. When the war began, Frada and Perla’s family first went with us to Shzedrin, then returned to Bobruisk. Perla’s husband was shot on September 9, in front of his wife, when they went to the Judenrat to look for work. All the others died on November 7 in the ghetto.

The fate of the sites of mass burial in Shzedrin and Bobruisk are different. A former Shzedrin resident was the commander of the military unit that liberated the town. He installed a memorial board with an inscription on the mass grave. A temporary monument was then put up. And only in 1963, with funds collected by the Jews, an obelisk was erected and the common grave was fenced.

The inscription, in Russian and Yiddish, says: "Eternal memory to the inhabitants of Shzedrin, executed by fascist murderers in the war of 1941-1945." Each year, on the day of liberation of Byelorussia, the former Shzedrin residents and their offspring come to the grave. There are no Jews living in Shzedrin now. The Jewish agricultural colony of Shzedrin existed exactly 100 years – from 1842 to 1942.

A tire plant has been constructed in Bobruisk on the site where the Jews were executed. To hide traces of their crimes, in 1943 the Germans dug up and burned the corpses. Before the construction of the tire plant,  the ditches were dug out again and the remains of 30,000 Jews – ashes mixed in with the dirt – were reburied at the Bobruisk Jewish cemetery.

During the war, 25 members of our family were killed. Only six survived: my father, three cousins, my uncle’s wife and me. After the war, Khaya, with her son, Aron, returned to Shzedrin, and she married my father.

  • Post-war

Before the war I completed seven grades of school and I really wanted to study further. In 1944 a forestry technical school opened in the liberated Bobruisk. I was admitted, but during the war I lost all my previous knowledge, and it was very hard for me to study. I decided to give up, but the deputy director persuaded me to stay, and asked the other guys to help me, and I caught up with the rest very fast. I graduated from the school with distinction.

After completing the technical school I was directed to Leningrad to Giprodrev, the state institute where they designed wood-processing plants. I worked in this institute until 1992, climbing all the way from a technician up to the main engineer of the project. I was the secretary in the Komsomol organization of the institute. In 1950, I entered the Leningrad Forestry Academy and studied by correspondence.

In 1950 I married Slava Tevievna Smuraga (nee Kosaya), who was born in 1921. She lost her son that year in a traffic accident and I adopted her four-year old daughter Lena. Slava was Jewish. I wanted very much to have children. The wife told me that I was to blame for our not having children.

When I have found out that was a lie, our marriage began to fall apart. I decided to divorce my wife. But as I was the secretary of  the Party organization of the institute, I had problems. I went to the District Party Committee. The secretary of the District Party Committee supported my decision and I submitted documents for the divorce, but Slava wouldn’t give me the divorce. The process lasted a whole year, and only at the sixth court session we were divorced. Slava Tevievna worked as a distributor of theater tickets until the end of her life, and died in 1997.

My present wife, Raisa Grigorievna, came to work in our institute in 1961. She is originally from Belorussia, like me. She was born in 1934 in the village of Kozazaevka of Rechinsky district, Gomel region. Her father was Jewish, her mother was Belorussian. Before the war, her father was the head of the exchange that was trading in wood. During the war, they were in the occupied territory, but her mother managed to save the entire family. Raisa was a very lovely and modest girl. We married in 1963. At first, we rented a room, and in 1964 we bought a cooperative apartment.

Money for the first payment was given to us by my father. He lived with his wife in Zhdanov (Mariupol) then, they moved to that city in 1956; Khaya’s brother lived there. They had a house with a large garden. Father worked as a shoemaker. Khaya died in 1965. Father stayed there until 1973, then he lived with us in Leningrad. He was seriously ill and died in 1985.

I brought Khaya’s son Aron to Leningrad when he finished seven grades of secondary school. He completed a welding technical school, served in the army, than graduated from the metallurgical faculty of Leningrad Polytechnical Institute, and worked in Gipromez,  the design institute of the iron and steel industry. He was the best expert in his branch, a winner of the State Prize. In 2000, he left to live in Germany, together with his son, born in 1966, and grandson.

Our daughter, Lida, was born in 1966. She finished secondary school, and then – with distinction – the Leningrad Construction Institute, faculty of water supply and drainage. She worked as an engineer in GIPX, the  state institute of applied chemistry, in the laboratory of usage and protection of water.

In 1990, she married Michail Yurievich Rozhkov, a submariner. Lida left with him for the north, the town of Gadzhievo. There was no work with her specialization there, so she completed the course for hairdressers. They were given an apartment unsuitable for habitation, and then the administration stopped paying her husband’s salary. Lida returned to Leningrad. Michail stayed in the north, and later was transferred to Leningrad Military Academy.

In 1993 their son Valentin was born. Lida has received her second degree, graduating from the higher economics school of the Leningrad Institute of Economics and Finance. She worked for two years as a manager for a private jewelry company. Now she is a marketing director of the jewelry firm "Geya." Her husband studies in post-graduate courses.

My wife worked as head of the project department of  a wood-processing company. I took part in designing all the objects of our branch in Leningrad, wood-processing plants in Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, the Novosibirsk timber plant and others. I was considered an authority not only in my institute, but also in the Ministry of Timber and Wood-Processing Industry. I worked with foreign firms, but I haven’t ever been abroad. I was banned from international trips because I worked at a secret defense plant, although I have not encountered anti-Semitism in other respects of my life.

Now my wife and I are pensioners. In 1990 I helped found the  "Organization of Underage Prisoners of the Ghetto” in Leningrad. It is a regional organization that covers  the whole northwest of Russia. I am a member of board of this charity organization.

I have always been a very active person. I wrote leaflets in the partisan regiment, and entered Komsomol in technical school, was the secretary of Komsomol organization in Leningrad in the institute where I worked. And then I became a member of the Communist Party and was appointed secretary of the Party organization of my institute. Komsomol and the Communist  Party were very aggressive in anti-religious propaganda and rejected any religion. This is a reason for my assimilation, and this is why I turned 180 degrees from being a religious man into a Soviet-type atheist.

Due to the tragic events in our family in the Holocaust, we certainly do not have any pre-war archives, and the few photos we possess I have "confiscated" from my distant relatives.

Farkas József

Életrajz

Farkas Józseffel való találkozásaimra a dési zsidó hitközség székhelyén került sor. 1996 márciusa óta ő a hitközségi elnök, és lelkiismeretesen bejár az irodába minden hétköznap reggel nyolc órára. Nyugodt, türelmes ember benyomását keltette.

Apám részéről a családot nem ismertem. A nagyapám Farkas Alexander volt, ő is és a nagymamám is meg volt halva, mikor én születtem. Abból, amit az apámtól hallottam, gondolom, hogy Járavizén laktak, és a gyerekeik is ott születtek [Járavize – kisközség volt az egykori Torda-Aranyos vm.-ben, Trianont követően Romániához került. Ma: Valea Ierii. Tordától 50 km-re északnyugatra. – A szerk.].

Édesapámék sokan voltak testvérek, volt négy fiú és négy leány. A négy fiú közül az egyik, Farkas Ármin Tordán élt, fuvarozott, stráfja [rakszekere] volt. Volt vagy három leánya és egy fia, de miután az apám meghalt 1945-ben, kiment Izraelbe a családjával együtt, és eltűnt a nyoma. Egy másik fiútestvérüket Farkas Hermannak hívták, ő Lupényban élt, de nem ismertem [Lupény – kisközség volt Hunyad vm.-ben, 1891-ben 900 főnyi román, 1900-ban 4800, 1910-ben 8000 főnyi román és magyar, 1920-ban már 13 800 főnyi lakossal. A községben jelentős kőszén- és több kisebb barnaszénbánya volt, ennek köszönhetően a zsilvölgyi bányászat központja lett. Trianont követően Romániához került. A 20. század első éveiben polgári fiú és leányiskolája volt.– A szerk.]. A negyedik fiú Farkas Gerő volt, ő az első világháború után, az 1920-as években elment Amerikába a négy leánytestvérükkel együtt. Nagyon halványan emlékszem, hogy a nevük talán Farkas Veronika, Farkas Gizi, Farkas Vilma volt, a negyedikre nem emlékszem, soha nem láttam őket, soha nem találkoztam velük. Nem tudok semmit róluk, semmit az égvilágon. Annyira visszaemlékszem, hogy a háború után, mikor az egész ország le volt rongyolódva, ez az amerikai nagybátyám, mikor megtudta, hogy meghalt az apám, az ő testvére, küldött a mi részünkre, hogy árván maradtunk, és segítsen rajtunk, valami téli holmit. Annak idején, mindjárt háború után lehetett küldeni csomagot Amerikából, akkor még nem volt kommunizmus. Egy télikabát is volt a csomagban, erre emlékszem, mert azt a télikabátot én legalább harminc-negyven évig viseltem, olyan jó karban volt. Sötétkék volt, nagyon puha, finom anyagból, valódi angol [szövet].

Az apám, Farkas Mendel 1889-ben született Járavizén, ő, mondjuk, a középső volt a testvérek közül. Azt gondolom, hogy Gerő nagyobb volt, mint az apám, és a lányokból vagy kettő nagyobb volt. De nem tudom biztosan, én nem ismertem őket. Az apám katonaként harcolt az első világháborúban [lásd: hadsereg az Osztrák–Magyar Monarchiában], és miután hazakerült, ismerkedett meg anyámmal, de ennek körülményeiről többet nem tudok. Nekem, mondjuk, egy-egy pluszom [pozitív tulajdonság] mellett van nagyon sok mínuszom. Én sose kérdezek semmit. Amit mondanak, én eltárolom az agyamban, a fejemben, de hogy én kérdezősködjek…

Az anyám részéről a nagyszüleim Tordán éltek. A nagyapám Deutsch József volt, ő meghalt körülbelül 1928-29-ben, mielőtt én születtem, és az ő tiszteletére adták a családban az összes fiúnak a Jóska nevet [A hagyomány szerint az anya joga a név megválasztása. Szokás elhunyt nagyapa vagy más rokon nevét adni (bár az askenázi közösségekben élő nagyapa nevét is kaphatja az újszülött fiúunoka). Lásd még: névadás. – A szerk.]. Ott van eltemetve Tordán a zsidó temetőben, pont az apám mellett. A nagymamámat ismertem az anyám részéről, Deutsch Reginának hívták. Ő elég vallásos volt, tartotta a kóserságot [lásd: étkezési törvények], mindig gondoskodott, hogy ne tréflizzük be a házat szalonnával vagy olyasmivel, amit nem volt szabad használni. Nem volt levágva a haja, csak amikor a templomba ment, kötötte be a fejét egy muszlin kendővel [Az ortodox férjes asszonyok kalappal, kendővel vagy a 19. században elterjedt szokás szerint parókával (sejtel, sájtli) fedték be a fejüket, illemből, mivel a szabadon lévő haj a mezítelenség egyik formájának tekinthető. A hagyomány szerint a menyasszony a házasságkötés előtt fölkereste a mikvét, ott vágták le a haját. Ezt követően az ortodox férjes asszonyok haját a férjen kívül más nem láthatta. Elméletileg nem szabad áldást mondani vagy szertartást végrehajtani olyan férjes asszony jelenlétében, akinek nincs befedve a feje. Ma már az ortodox asszonyok is inkább csak a zsinagógában fedik be a fejüket. – A szerk.]. A nagynénémékkel, Edit lányáékkal lakott, ő gondozta a házat, ameddig bírta fizikailag. A nagyanyám a háború után elment Marosújvárra, ahol volt a Deutsch Lajos [az anya egyik testvére], és ott halt meg. Az apám meghalt 1945. március hatodikán, a nagyanyám pedig két napra rá ott, Marosújváron [Marosújvár(-akna) – nagyközség volt Alsó-Fehér vm.-ben, 1891-ben 3400, 1910-ben 5000, 1920-ban 4900 magyar és román lakossal (járási szolgabírói hivatal, járásbíróság). Itt volt Magyarország legnagyobb sóbányája. Trianont követően Romániához került. Ma: Ocna Mureş, Tordától 24 km-re, délre. – A szerk.].

Ottan volt három fiú [a családban], Deutsch Lajos, Deutsch Kálmán, Deutsch Samu, és a legfiatalabb volt egy lány, Deutsch Edit. Deutsch Lajos Marosújváron élt, megnősült, elvette feleségül egy zsidó malmosnak a leányát, és ő kezelte mint férfi a marosújvári malmot. A felesége Manci volt, egy fiuk és egy leányuk volt, a leányt Noéminek hívták, a fiúra már nem emlékszem, ők valamivel kisebbek voltak nálam. A második világháború után elmentek Izraelbe [lásd: kivándorlási hullám Romániából a második világháború után], a gyerekek Izraelben telepedtek le, Deutsch Lajos aztán visszajött Tordára, és Tordán halt meg az 1950-es évek első felében. Deutsch Kálmánnak egy szeszesital- vagy borlerakata volt Székelyudvarhelyen. Székelyudvarhelyen éltek, ahonnan őt az egész családjával együtt – felesége és két gyermeke, fiú és leány, az a fiú is Jóska volt – elhurcolták Auschwitzba, és közülük nem jött vissza senki az égvilágon. Deutsch Samu Tordán élt, annak a fia is Deutsch Jóska volt, a nagytata után. Elment Izraelbe a háború után a feleségével és fiával, és Izraelben halt meg.

Deutsch Edit férje Hertzlinger Jenő volt, zsidó gyógyszerész, ők itt éltek, Tordán, közel laktak oda, ahová mi költöztünk a háború alatt. Volt egy fiuk, aki egy napon született velem, ő is Jóska volt – két lány szült két Jóskát ugyanazon a napon –, és egy lányuk, Lili, aki három évvel fiatalabb, mint én. Jóska 1945-ben elszökött a szüleitől, elment Izraelbe, Shanan Josefnek hívják most, ő még él. Izrael nem kötelezi, hogy átvigyék az innen vitt nevet. Amikor voltak az aliják, akkor még dátumot is változtattak. Amit bediktáltak, azt írták. Mikor valaki megérkezik, és akar más nevet, megváltoztathatja. Itt is, a temetőben minden sírra héberül fel van írva a meghalt keresztneve, és hogy kinek a fia. Például én Jóska vagyok, és az apám Mendel. Akkor a nevem lenne, mondjuk, Josef ben Mendel [lásd: zsidó vezetéknevek]. Nem Josef Farkas. És ugyanez érvényes a lányokra is. Sarah, Menachen lánya, az Sarah bat Menachen. És ennek az alapján Izraelben aztán folyékonyan be tudták írni azt, amit óhajtanak. Például elment egy barátnőm Tordáról, akit Kirschenbaumnak hívtak. Izraelben nagyon nehéz lett volna, hogy ezt a Kirschenbaumot valamiképpen szentesítsék. És ő beíratta magát Duvdevániként. Ez Kirschenbaum, cseresznyefa, héberre lefordítva. Deutsch Lili is Izraelben él, Rehovoton, Huszár Lili a férje után, egy lányuk van.

Ez a nagybátyám, Hertzlinger Jenő, ez a gyógyszerész illegális kommunista volt. És szegény belebolondult, amikor kiábrándult. Szervezkedtek annak idején [a két világháború között], volt néhány illegalista a tordai szódagyárban, a tordai üveggyárban, egy-egy. A nagybátyámat aztán kiemelték augusztus huszonharmadika után [lásd: Románia kiugrása a háborúból], és aktivista volt. Elvitték Kolozsvárra, Kolozsvárról elvitték Felsőtömösre [Timişu de Sus, Brassótól 20 km-re déli irányban. – A szerk.], ott volt egy casă de odihnă [belső üdülője] a Comitet Centralnak [Központti Bizottságnak], és ő volt annak az igazgatója. Onnan elvitték Bukarestbe, és kinevezték az Elias kórház adminisztratív igazgatójává. Egy Elias nevű valakié volt, ő adományozta a román államnak ezt a kórházat. Ez egy nagy kórház volt, 1989 előtt a főnököknek volt a zártkörű kórháza. Egyszer meghalt valami fejesnek az apja vagy az anyja, nem volt ott senki, és őt hívták le, hogy menjen a fejessel. Bementek a boncterembe, és ott a halottakat nehezen tudták felismerni. A nagybátyám véletlenül egy más halottra mutatott. És ezek keresik, nem tudom, mire rájöttek, hogy más volt. Ezt megtudta a Comitet Central, és abban a pillanatban kinyírták, kitették az állásából, és ebbe belebolondult a szó szoros értelmében, szkizofréniás lett. Szóval kegyetlen volt a kommunizmus. Amilyen nemes volt elvileg, olyan kegyetlen volt a végrehajtása. Itt volt [hazalátogatott] az unokatestvérem, a fia, József, ő már Izraelben volt, bement hozzá, és nem ismerte föl. Volt egy időben bolondokházában is, de többnyire otthon gondozták. Bukarestben halt meg, úgy 1985–86-ban, mert miután meghalt, akkor ment el a leánya az anyjával együtt Izraelbe, és ők 1987-ben mentek. A nagynéném, Hertzlinger Edit vagy öt évvel ezelőtt [2000 körül] halt meg.

Tán az anyám [Deutsch Fánus] volt a legidősebb a testvérek közül, ő 1893-ban született, Tordán. Született jó humora volt. Nagyon sok vidámság volt benne. Valamikor elmesélte, hogy ő férjnél volt, és nem tudom, milyen körülmények között, nem bírta a férje, és elváltak. Ez volt az első világháborúban. Miután az apám leszerelt a katonaságból az első világháború után, és hazakerült, akkor ismerkedtek meg, és körülbelül 1918-ban házasodtak össze, mert a nővérem 1920-ban született. Anyám gondozta, nevelte mind a három gyermeket, a nővéremet is, az öcsémet is, és mindenféle szempontból átadta mindenét, ami volt neki. Gyönyörű szépen írt, nem, mint én, sokkal szebben írt, mint én. Nem volt csak ilyen régifajta gimnáziumból négy gimnáziuma [azaz négy év elemit és négy év gimnáziumot végzett].

A nővérem, Farkas Éva 1920-ban született, a férje után Márton Éva volt. Tordán járta a négy elemit, majd [Nagy]Váradon végezte a kereskedelmi líceumot, mert ott volt ez a konfesszionális [felekezeti] kereskedelmi líceum [Az iskoláról nem sikerült megtudnunk közelebbi adatokat. – A szerk.]. Az apánkhoz hasonlított, akárcsak én, olyan csendesebb volt, nyugodt. Mindjárt az apám elhalálozása után ment férjhez. Márton Ernőnek hívták a férjét, úgy tudom, hogy marosújvári volt. A szülei fakereskedők voltak, ezt átvette ő is. Amióta én ismertem, a fa szakmában dolgozott, Kolozsvárt volt egy „Com Lemn” [lemn =  fa (román)] nevezetű iroda, amelyik aztán odacsatolódott az ICRM-hez, ott dolgozott. A nővérem pedig könyvelőnő volt. Kimentek Izraelbe 1958-ban. A sógoromnak az anyja meghalt itt, Tordán, és az apja és a nővére elment Izraelbe a háború után. Kérte a sógorom a családegyesítést, és engedték a nővéremmel együtt, akinek nem volt gyermeke. Petah Tikvában laktak, az egyik szakszervezeti egyesületnél alkalmazták őket, és azt hiszem, a sógorom mint statisztikus dolgozott, a nővérem pedig mint főkönyvelő, egészen a nyugdíjazásig. 1994-ben halt meg a nővérem, augusztus huszonkettedike körül. Kiment egy autóval vásárolni a piacra, és mikor kiszállt az autóból, senki nem tudja, hogy miért, elesett, beütötte a koponyáját, bevitték a kórházba, végig kómában volt. Akkor telefonált az öcsém, hogy mi történt. Azonnal a leányom segítségével utánajártunk vonatjegynek, repülőjegynek, egy csütörtökön repültem, és amikor én repültem, akkor halt meg a nővérem. Részt vettem a temetésén, ami péntek délelőtt volt, mert péntek délután nem temetnek a szombat miatt. De senki nem tudja, hogy miért [halt meg], hogy szívszélhűdésbe vagy a melegtől, agyvérzést kapott, vagy kiesett az autóból, vagy megbotlott az autóból, senki nem tudja, hogy mi történt.

Az öcsém, Farkas Imre 1931. november tizennegyedikén született. Az öcsém volt egy cseppet izgága, ő az anyánkhoz hasonlított. És fantasztikusan szellemes volt. Nem sok iskolája volt, de sokkal szebben írt, mint én, nagyon gyönyörű írása volt. Négy elemit végzett a felekezeti iskolában, majd négy gimnáziumot a román iskolában, azt már [1944.] augusztus huszonharmadika után járta. De nem akart tanulni sose, és elment traktoristának, majd kitanulta a hegesztőséget és lakatosságot. Alig volt tizennyolc éves, amikor megnősült, a felesége, Fischer Ibi [Ibolya] idősebb volt nála két évvel, velem volt egyidős, 1929-ben született. Ő tizenhat évesen túlélte Auschwitzot, és visszakerült Tordára [A deportálások idején minden bizonnyal a második bécsi döntés révén átmenetileg Magyarországhoz visszakerült Észak-Erdélyben tartózkodott. Dél-Erdélyből, amely a trianoni békeszerződés óta folyamatosan Románia része, nem deportálták német koncentrációs táborba a zsidókat. Lásd: zsidók Észak- és Dél-Erdélyben. – A szerk.]. Azt tudom, hogy amikor az öcsém hazament, és bejelentette, hogy megnősült, az anyám kidobta a házból. Aztán elmentek, és egy darabig laktak Kolozsvárt, ahol a Tranzit ház [a Szamos partján] van most, ott volt néhány ilyen gyengébben készült lakás, és ott volt, azt hiszem, egy szobájuk. Akkor egy idő után az anyám befogadta őket, és visszaköltöztek Tordára, a családi házba. Az öcsém a Proletarulban dolgozott, az samott-téglagyár volt, a tordai cementgyár mellett volt. És ott dolgozott a karbantartásnál, lakatos-hegesztő volt egészen 1966-ig, amíg el nem ment Izraelbe. Három gyermekük született, de sajnos kettő meghalt. Az első egy leány volt, Verának hívták, ő négyéves korában meghalt, már nem tudom pontosan, miben, a klinikán halt meg. Utána született egy fiúcska, az háromhetes korában meghalt, azt tudom, hogy deszhidratálódott [dehidratálódott], pedig kezelte egy kolozsvári híres gyermekgyógyász. Csak a harmadik gyerek maradt meg, Palika. Ő 1952-ben született, pont tíz évvel nagyobb az én leányomnál, és ők az egyetlen unokatestvérek, akik a családból mint unokatestvérek tartják a kapcsolatot. Palinak is van két gyermeke, egy fiú és egy leány.

Imre Tordán a gyárban nagyon nehéz munkát végzett, és összekerültek vagy hárman-négyen, akik nekifogtak inni. Az öcsém is ivott, ő egész más volt, mint én, házsártos volt, és sok probléma volt vele. Ilyen kijelentéseket tett, mikor jött piásan, hogy veszi a kést, mert „oláh vért” akar inni. Persze az anyám esett össze, mikor hallotta. Telefonált Tordáról Désre – akkor már Désen laktam –, hogy menjek Tordára, mert Imre megint berúgott, csitítsam a dolgokat. És futottam. Akkor a család úgy határozott – a nővérem már azelőtt kiment Izraelbe –, hogy menjen el Izraelbe, mert ott nem fog tudni inni a melegtől. És körülbelül így is történt. 1966. március huszonhatodikán ment a családjával együtt, és Kefar Saván telepedtek le, ez tizenöt kilométerre van Petah Tikvától. Elment az édesanyám is az öcsémmel együtt Izraelbe, mert [Tordán is] velük élt, és volt ott egy unoka is, akit imádott. És hat hónapra és hat napra rá meghalt ott, Izraelben, nem bírta az éghajlatot. Ott van eltemetve Izraelben, Kefar Saván. Az öcsém előkovács, pneumatikus kovács volt Izraelben egy fémipari részlegben, ahol 1981-82 körül balesetezett, egy magas nyomású présnek megdefektesedett a fékje, elkapta az egyik kezét, és összezúzta. Miután a kezét nem tudta használni a mesterségében – két ujja meg volt merevedve, nem tudta hajlítani –, könnyebb munkán dolgozott egészen a haláláig. Először tán őrnek tették ugyanabba a gyárba, de aztán eljött onnan.

2002. május tizenkilencedikén halt meg az öcsém. Oda is elmentem, az öcsémet már eltemették, de mondtam kádist felette, és ültem sivát, ahogy mondják, azt a hét napot a sógornőmmel és a fiával [lásd: gyász, süve]. Letettek egy matracot egy deszka fölé, hogy ne legyen fotel, hanem lejjebb legyen, és azon ültünk. Ilyenkor ülnek a földön, nem egy kényelmes helyzetben, ha van kukoricapanusa [csuhé], akkor azt rakják le, kiterítik, letakarják, és arra ülnek, szóval nem fotelben ülnek, nem székben. És akkor jár fel a rokonság, látogatók. Az is egy szigorúan rituális dolog, hogyha valaki meghal reggel, akkor délután el is kell temetni [lásd: temetés]. És akkor nincs idő majdnem senkit se értesíteni. Ezért van harminc napra rá a sírkőavatás. A harminc nap alatt mindenkit le lehet értesíteni, és többen jönnek a sírkőavatásra, mint a temetésre. Én is részt vettem az öcsém sírkőavatásán. Ilyenkor jön egy kántor, aki elmondja az imát, és felavatja a sírkövet. A család gyújt egy gyertyát, és most már szoktak virágot is hozni, ezt régebben nem engedték [lásd: temető]. De pont [a temetés után] harminc napra van a sírkőavatás. Az anyám ott van eltemetve Izraelben, a nővérem ott van eltemetve Izraelben, és az öcsém ott van eltemetve Izraelben.

Én 1929. október negyedikén születtem Kolozsvárt, a Mátyás Mátyás klinikán. A József Sándor nevet kaptam a két nagytatám, Farkas Alexander és Deutsch József után, mert rituális szempontból nálunk minden újszülött fiú felveheti a meghalt nagyszülő nevét. Tordán éltünk, ott nevelkedtem. Miután megszületett a nővérem, az apám elment Amerikába dolgozni, pénzt keresni, ez divat volt. Innen, Erdélyből nagyon sokan mentek ki, volt, aki maradt, volt, aki visszajött. Dolgozott vagy négy-öt évig, és mikor hazajött, vette a házat, ahol laktunk, én csak azután születtem. A házunk Tordán, az Avram Iancu utca 19. szám alatt volt, a főúton, ahogy megy be az ember Kolozsvárról, a katolikus templomon innen, a színházon innen. Egy családi ház volt, három szobás, konyhával, fürdőszobával, spájzzal, és volt két kicsi szoba, amelyik valószínűleg rendelőnek volt építve annak idején. Amikor megvette az apám, az külön volt. Volt egy szuterénlakás is, és nagyon sok [nagy] pince volt. A ház berendezése annak idején a klasszikus volt. A hálószobában volt két ágy, ami egymás mellett volt, szemben vele két szekrény volt, amit használt a házaspár. A fiúk – az öcsém és én – egy szobában laktak, de külön ágyunk, rekamiénk volt. Nagy udvarunk is volt, nagy kert, zöldség termett, sok virág volt, gyümölcsfa. Hinta is volt az udvaron. Játszottunk még malmot, dominót, más játékra nem emlékszem, csak arra, hogy nekem nem volt biciklim, de a többi barátoknak volt, és mindig irigyeltem, hogy másnak van, és nekem nincs. A végén nem is lehetett, mert meghalt az apám. És használtam a barátoknak a biciklijét.

Tizenöt éves koromban árva maradtam. Amire apámmal kapcsolatosan vissza tudok emlékezni, az, ami ezek alatt az évek alatt történt. Egy nagyon fegyelmezett tisztviselő volt, főtisztviselő volt a tordai agyagipari gyárban, amelyiket úgy hívtak, hogy Industria de lut Giriş-Arieş [Aranyosgyéresi Agyagipari Gyár], Aranyosgyéreshez tartozik ez, Giriş-Arieşnek hívták régen Aranyosgyérest [mai román neve Câmpia Turzii], az öreg emberek most is úgy mondják. Utazó is volt édesapám, vagy kétszer vitt magával, ahová ki volt küldve, a cég bérelt autót, és járkáltunk ide-oda. Arra pontosan visszaemlékszem, hogy voltunk Désen, itt tán egy nap el is voltunk szállásolva. Innen elindultunk Nagybányára, és ahol volt cseréplerakata a gyárnak, ott megálltunk. Együtt [vitt] az öcsémmel, de kicsik voltunk. Nagyon higgadt, nagyon alapos volt, valószínűleg nagyon sok mindent az ő génjeiből vettem én át, mert én se vagyok robbanó vagy lobbanó, én is megtartom a nyugodtságomat, a higgadtságomat.

Apám a cionizmushoz csupa érzésből viszonyult, reájöttem utólagosan, hogy titkosan finanszírozta a Keren Kajemet Lejiszraelt. A Keren Kajemet egy persely volt, amibe tettek pénzt, amiből főleg a fákat ültették Izraelben. Mindig el volt dugva ez a persely a házban, nehogy megtalálja a karhatalom. Alkalomadtán jelentkezett egy biztos, és kiürítette. Miután elvégeztem az ötödik-hatodik-hetedik osztályt a [zsidó] felekezeti iskolában, ott már említette a tanár néni, hogy létezik ilyesmi, akkor jöttem rá, hogy mi is volt. Ami a politikát illeti, apám, szegény, abszolút függetlenül fejezte be az életét, nem volt elhajolva se jobbra, se balra.

A családom mostani viszonylatban félvallásos volt. Szóval nem voltak se szakállasak, se pájeszesek, és nem voltak ateisták sem. A nőknek a családból nem volt levágva a hajuk. Amikor a templomba jártak [mentek], akkor tettek egy muszlinkendőt magukra [a fejükre], mert imaházba mentek, és ez a szertartás. De otthon és az utcán nem hordtak kendőt. Nálunk, főleg ameddig az apánk élt, szabály volt a péntek esti gyertyagyújtás, a péntek esti vacsora és a szombati vacsora. Respektálták szigorúan a szombatot a kalácssütéssel, a csólentsütéssel, szóval úgy koszttal, mint gyertyagyújtással. Szombatra főzött mindig édesanyám húslevest, utána pedig sóban főttet – azt a húst, amit a levesben főznek – és csólentet ettünk. Eleinte volt valaki, aki gyújtotta a tüzet nálunk szombaton [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma; sábesz gój], de aztán már gyújtották a szüleim is. Édesapám szombaton meg az ünnepnapokon mindig ment a tordai templomba, és mi, a fiúk kísértük. Megvolt az ő helye a templomban, licitálva volt, azt meg kellett venni minden évben. Az édesanyám tartotta a kóserságot a háborúig, de ez utána lassan-lassan megszűnt. Meghalt az apánk, és megszűnt a ritualitás, megszűnt a kóserség, már sakter sem volt a háború után Tordán.

A Purim az egy örömünnep volt, pont harminc nappal a húsvét [Pészah] előtt van. Lényegében arról van szó, hogy egy királynak a leánya, Eszternek hívták, megmentette a zsidóságot. Valamit manipulált ott a királyi család körül, valaki meg akarta ölni a zsidókat, egy Hámán nevezetű, és Eszter kimentette [őket]. És ez a lényege, hogy egy örömünneppé vált. Ilyenkor a gyerekek beöltöznek maskarába, mikor mi gyermekek voltunk, a templom udvarán találkoztunk. Otthon főzés és főleg süteménykészítés volt, sok tésztát sütöttek, ez is szimbolizálta az örömünnepet.

Arra emlékszem még, hogy nálunk is volt egy ilyen rituálé, hogy külön edény volt a Pészahra, ez a padlás egyik fachjában [rekesz, polc (német)] volt eltéve. Szóval a padláson volt egy rész, ami be volt dróthálóval kerítve, be volt zárva, és ott csak ezt [a húsvéti edényt] tartották, oda nem engedett be az anyám semmi mást. És mielőtt kezdődött a Pészah, akkor az évi mindennemű edényt levitte anyám a pincébe, és lehozta a felső edényt. Ha véletlenül valamilyen edény hiányzott, akkor kiégette a kemencében [a hétköznapon használatos edényt, így kóserolta], hogy lehessen használni. És amikor befejeződött az ünnep, akkor összeszedte, lemosta, és visszavittük a padlásra. A Pészahnak a pászka volt az alapja. Ott kellett kezdődnie, hogy ki kellett költöztetni minden kenyérneműt a házból, és ez alatt az idő alatt csak pászkát lehetett enni. A széderestét, ameddig élt az apám, otthon tartottuk, esetleg az Edit nagynénémék és nagyanyám voltak még jelen, nem volt soha kintről vendég, semmi ünnepkor. De mindig nálunk tartottuk, mert nagyobb volt a ház. Hozzátartozott a ritualitáshoz, hogy volt keserűgyökér vagy torma vagy petrezselyem, krumpli, főtt tojás és valami zöldség, zöldhagyma vagy retek, szédereste ezt kellett enni. És mindig töltöttek egy-egy kicsi pohár bort, mindegyik ima után kellett egy kicsi bort inni akkor este. A gyerekeknek is töltöttek, de a gyerekek nem itták meg. Még a felnőttek sem, mert nem volt családi szokás az ivás, csak kizárólag a rituálé kedvéért. Az afikómen volt a gyermekeknek az öröme, először eldugják, a gyerekek megtalálják, ellopják, és azután [a vacsora végén] megeszik. Vacsora közben többször kellett kezet mosni, erre volt egy tál kikészítve.

De a legnagyobb ünnep a Hosszúnap volt, az általános böjt volt. Este édesapám megáldotta a vacsorát, vacsoráztunk, elmentünk a templomba, hazajöttünk, és többet nem ettünk, nem ittunk semmit másnap estig, ameddig fel nem jöttek a csillagok. És a legtöbben a templomban töltötték a napjukat. A második este is volt egy vacsora, egy zsidó vacsora. Előételnek volt falcs hal [lásd: halételek], ez olyan, mint a grízgaluska, de a majorság melléből csinálták, ledarálták a mellehúst, összekeverték zöldséggel, nagyon finom volt. Aztán volt húsleves főtt hússal, csólenttel.

Most – pláne hogy annyit járok Izraelbe, láttam – úgy fel van kapva a bár micvó, mint legalább egy hatuna [házasságkötési ceremónia], mint egy esküvő. Olyan felhajtások vannak. Az én időmben nem volt majdnem semmi, régen abszolút rituálisan zajlott le. Én visszaemlékszem, hogy bementünk a templomba, felolvastam a Tórából azt a részt, amit előre megtanultam, a kántor ott felavatott, és kész. Otthon nem volt semmi ünnepség. Ez volt 1942-ben. A tizenharmadik év születésnapján szokták ezt tartani, mert a judaisztikai törvények alapján a tizenharmadik év az a nagykorúsodás, nem a tizennyolc év. Tizenhárom év után szabad a fiúkat vinni, hogy előimádkozzanak, hogy részt vegyenek a minjánban. Nekem is volt imaszíjam, tfilám, az apám tanította meg, hogy kell felkötni, ezt viselni kellett bár micvó után, ahányszor mentem a templomba.

Egy híres rabbi volt Tordán [gyerekkoromban], doktor Wesel [Wezel] Albert főrabbi, ő lett az erdélyi főrabbi. Mindenki várta, hogy a szatmárit válasszák, mert annak volt egy tradíciója, de egy nagyon nagy tudós volt Wesel, és a végén őt választották [“A főrabbi, Wesel Albert, aki bölcsessége, tapintata, nemes gondolkodása révén került a hivatalos országrészi ortodox szervezet élére [: vagyis az országos ortodox iroda elnöke 1932-től :], mielőtt az erdélyi zsidó vallási közélet irányítását vállalta, tíz erdélyi megyére terjedő egyletet alapított. Címe: »Machike Hadat«, célja: a hitélet mélyítése. Támogatta a szegényebb községek talmud tóráit és a vallási intézményeket”( Szabó Imre, Erdély Zsidói, Kadima kiadás, Cluj, 1938, 224. oldal). – A szerk.]. Körülbelül 1943-44-ben halt meg, addig volt rabbi Tordán [Wezel Albert 1861-ben született, és 1938-ban halt meg. – A szerk.]. Utána a veje jött rabbinak, Adlernek [Adler József] hívták, a Wesel egyik leányát vette el feleségül. Egy másik leánya, Száráh vagy Szuri, tanított engem németre, de volt még néhány leánytestvére és néhány fiútestvére. Haza jártam hozzájuk, ott volt a rabbilakás a templom udvarán, nem volt nagy lakás, vagy két-három szobájuk volt. Többen jártak hozzá németet tanulni, volt, amikor voltunk ketten-hárman, és úgy gondolom, hogy a szülők szorgalmazták. Ezért természetesen fizetni kellett.

Volt mikve Tordán, de mi nem jártunk. Volt otthon fürdőszobánk, és nem voltunk olyan vallásosak, hogy kötelező legyen. Volt egy kóser vágóhíd is Tordán a templomudvar mögött, egy sakteráj, ahogy mi mondjuk, és oda vittük a majorságot vágni. Egy klasszikus vágóhíd volt, de tyúkoknak, voltak akasztók, volt egy lefolyó, amin lefolyt a vér a kanálisba. Tyúkot, rucát, libát, pulykát, mindenféle majorságot vittek oda vágni. Borjút is vittek oda, viszont a marhákat a [városi] vágóhídon vágták, de [ugyancsak] a sakter. Mi tartottunk otthon tyúkot, rucát, libát és pulykát, [a sakterájba] a cseléd vitte-hozta a majorságot, ő pucolta. A második világháború előtt volt segítsége az anyámnak, egy cseléd. Egy időben egy idősebb vénleány volt a cseléd, ő az alagsori lakásban lakott. Volt, amikor volt egy györgyfalvai fiatalabb leány, annak volt egy speciális ágya a konyhában, ami asztal is volt, és amikor kihúzták, ágy volt éjszakára. Több cseléd volt [az idők folyamán].

Tordán sokkal kevesebb zsidó volt, mint Désen, de Tordán is mindig tele volt a zsinagóga, igaz, hogy a tordai templom sokkal kisebb, mint a dési. Én úgy emlékszem, hogy körülbelül négyszáz lélek volt Tordán [200 hitközségi tagot említ Szabó Imre a fent idézett műben. Az 1910-es népszámlálás szerint 482 izraelita vallású ember élt Tordán. – A szerk.]. Tordán most már nincsen semmilyen nemű hitközségi élet, Kolozsvárhoz vannak csatolva, él még ott egy kilencvenegynéhány éves orvos, akire emlékszem, és még vagy ketten. A legpontosabb nyilvántartása a tordai hitközségről a tordai temetőpásztornak van, aki tud mindenkit, névleg, hogy hol van eltemetve, és mit dolgozott. Fiatalabb, mint én, egy román ember, nagyon érdekes neve van, Porcilă, úgy hívják a temetőpásztort. De ő örökölte az apjától – én ismertem az apját is –, mert van egy szabály nálunk, és ezt alkalmazzák, hogy minden temetőpásztornak van ingyen lakása a hitközség részéről, nem kell fizessenek se adót, se semmit az égvilágon, csak a saját költségeiket, gázt, vizet, villanyt. És mindenhol [zsidó temetőben] keresztény temetőpásztor van, valószínűleg, hogy tudjon intézkedni, mikor a zsidónak tiltva van, hogy valamit csináljon. Vannak a temetővel kapcsolatosan is szabályok, szombaton például nem szabad a temetőbe menni.

Nálunk még szokás volt egy dolog, persze a háború előtt, és a háború ideje alatt ez szaporodott [terjedt], hogy a városiak, akik egy cseppet magasabb szinten éltek, befogadták a faluról érkezett zsidó gyerekeket, akik bejártak Tordára tanulni, és minden nap egy-egy másik zsidó családnál étkeztek, ezért nem kellett fizessenek. Hozzánk is járt kettő ebédelni, az egyik jött vasárnap, és másik jött kedden. Amit főztek a családnak, azt ettek ők is, és jól ettek, hál’ istennek. Jó viszonyban voltunk velük mi, gyerekek, ebéd után maradtak még nálunk, játszottunk is együtt. Az egyik [fiú] Rődről [Rediu, Tordától 20 km-re északra] volt, Markovits, a másik nevére [keresztnevére] már nem emlékszem, a másik pedig, Goldstein Járából [Iara, Tordától 30 km-re nyugatra].

És nagyon érdekes sztorik voltak ezzel kapcsolatban. Az én unokatestvérem, aki egy nap született velem, Hertzlinger Jóska 1945-ben, tizenöt éves korában otthagyta a szüleit, és elszökött az egyik fiúval, aki bejárt hozzánk étkezni, Markovitscsal. És nagyon fura módon, Olaszországon keresztül, nem tudom, milyen hajókon, kikerültek Izraelbe, ott elkapták őket, akkor még angol birodalom volt [1922-ben Palesztina brit mandátumterület lett. – A szerk.], és bezárták őket [lásd: kivándorlási hullám Romániából 1939–1945 között]. A végén kiengedték őket, és ez az én unokatestvérem elment egyenesen egy kibucba, a másik pedig elment a katonaságba. Felvergődött a katonaságban, úgy látszik, egy természeti adottság révén, nagyon haladt, haladt, és generálissá lett. A végén rámátkál lett, az izraeli katonai vezérkar főnöke. Amikor lejárt a négy éve – mert Izraelben szabály, hogy minden funkciónak van egy meghatározott ideje, amikor az lejár, ott nincs mese, hogy még adunk egy telefont, és még tartjuk –, akkor ő elkerült katonai attasénak a washingtoni nagykövetségre, ahol Jitzhak Rabin volt nagykövet. Miután hazajött, beszéltem vele ezen az unokatestvéremen keresztül. Ő ilyen körülmények között élte le az életét. Izraelben felvette a Manachen Maron nevet, most úgy hívják.

A másik, amelyik Járából került el, nagyon vallásos lett. Egyszer az unokatestvéremmel elmentünk Haifára, ott volt szolgálatban a felesége egy gyárban, és bementünk hozzá. És jön valaki, és nekem esik, „Szervusz, Jóska, nem tudom, mi...” Én megszeppentem, mondtam, „Mondd csak, hogy miért vagyok én szervusz veled?”. És akkor ő mondta, hogy „Nem emlékszel, hogy én minden kedden nálatok ettem?”. Ott dolgozott abban a gyárban, másgiáh volt, rituális ellenőr – van Kolozsvárt a kantinban is egy ilyen.

Én kezdtem a román óvodát, párhuzamosan az óvodával jártam a zsidó felekezeti óvodába is. Volt felekezeti elemi iskola is, és a felekezeti iskolának volt egy melléképülete, ott volt a héder, ahol csak judaisztikát tanítottak, oda is jártam. Az elemi iskolát én is a felekezeti iskolában végeztem, románul tanultunk mindent [1921-től a román tanügyi törvények előírták, hogy az izraelita iskolák tanítási nyelve a héber vagy a román legyen. – A szerk.]. Egy zsidó ember, Grossmann bácsi volt a tanító, ő tanította mind a négy osztályt, és ő volt az iskolaigazgató is. Ott befejeztem a négy elemit jó körülmények között, az pont 1940-ben történt. Akkor felvételiztem a kereskedelmi líceumba Tordán, az első négy között voltam. Aki jobb volt, mint én, az egyik osztálytársam, egy nyomdásznak a fia volt, és tudtuk, hogy ő kilencessel végzett, én és még hárman 8,66-tal. De volt kettő, az egyik egy generálisnak, a másik egy ezredesnek a csemetéje, aki elénkbe ugrott, az egyik 9,66-tal, és a másik 9,33-mal. És amikor kifüggesztették az eredményeket, akkor kifüggesztették a 8,66-ot, de nem vettek fel, mert közben beiktatták a fajüldözési törvényeket [lásd: Zsidó Statutum Romániában].

Akkor kiterjesztették a [zsidó] felekezeti elemi iskolát hét osztályra, hogy aki nem tudott bejutni a gimnáziumba, tudja folytatni az iskolát. Jött még egy tanárnő, az tanította az ötödik-hatodik-hetediket. Frenkel Magdának hívták, zsidó volt, egy kicsi, alacsony, nyomorék nő, bicegett, szegény, és vénleány volt. De nagyon értelmes volt, ő tanított minden tantárgyat [Lásd Frenkel Magda: A tordai zsidó iskola, 1941–44. Korunk, 1991, 8. szám. – A szerk.]. Akkor három éven keresztül, 1940–43-ban csináltam tovább a felekezeti elemi iskolában három osztályt, szóval befejeztem a hét osztályt. Akkor néhány szülő összeállt, és 1943-ban elmentünk vizsgázni egy felekezeti gimnáziumba, Temesvárra. Négyen mentünk egy szülővel, emlékszem, az egyik egy Goró Eszter nevezetű lány volt, ő nagyobb volt nálam, de én súgtam neki földrajzból. Szállodában laktunk, onnan mentünk a gimnáziumba, és ott vizsgáztattak, néhány napig tartott, mert minden tantárgyból kellett vizsgázni, románul. Ott engedték, hogy levizsgázzunk az első és második gimnáziumi osztályból [ez az ötödik-hatodik osztálynak felel meg ma]. Az 1943/44-es tanévben otthon voltam, készültem, hogy menjek vizsgázni Temesvárra a harmadik osztályból is. De közben megtörtént az 1944-es augusztus huszonhárom [Románia átállása a szövetségesek oldalára. – A szerk.], és akkor engedték, hogy a harmadik gimnáziumi osztályból vizsgázzak a tordai kereskedelmi líceumban, látogatás nélkül. És annak alapján ősszel be tudtam iratkozni a negyedik osztályba, és a negyedik és az ötödik osztályt csináltam rendesen a kereskedelmi líceumban. És miután meghalt az apám, akkor megint kimaradtam az iskolából, mert nekifogtam dolgozni, de közben csináltam a hatodik, hetedik és a nyolcadik gimnáziumot [ez a mai 10–12. osztálynak felel meg] látogatás nélkül, és leérettségiztem 1949-ben.

Az egyik legjobb gyerekkori barátom Tordán Ábrahám Juliusz volt, ő idősebb, mint én, és volt még egy barátunk, Taub Emilnek hívták, az a közbeeső volt. Ábrahám volt 1927-es, ez a Taub Emil volt 1928-as, és én 1929-es. Mindenféle turpisságot csináltunk együtt, mit lehetett fiatalságban csinálni? Jártunk sportolni, úsztunk, pingpongoztunk. Jártunk strandolni a tordai sósfürdőbe, az nagyon híres, régi sósfürdő. Ott volt egy nagy medence, hideg vizű, de egy időben volt meleg fürdő is. Aranyoshoz nem nagyon jártunk fürdeni, mert féltünk. Főleg 1940–44-ben féltünk, mert sose tudtuk, hogy mikor kapunk ruhát. Találkoztunk X. Y.-nal, és ha úgy jött nekik, akkor nekünk estek, jól megvertek. És nem is szorgalmazták a szülők, hogy járjunk az Aranyosra. Ide, a sós fürdőbe jártunk, az be volt kerítve, és váltott az ember jegyet, volt kabinja. Ábrahám Juliusz mérnökember lett, New Yorkban él, van gyermeke, már majdnem negyven éves [Ábrahám Juliusz gyerekéről van szó], és nem akar megnősülni, ezt nekem mindig elpanaszolja. Most ameddig voltam a leányomnál, felvettem a kapcsolatot vele interneten, és aztán beszéltünk telefonon. Taub Emil kiment Németországba, meghalt, szegény, azt hiszem, Kölnben.

Az anyanyelvem magyar, otthon magyarul beszéltünk, mert mind a két szülőm magyar iskolába járt. Mi román iskolába jártunk, így perfektül beszéltünk magyarul is, románul is. És közben a hájderben [héderben] megtanultam jiddisül is. Úgy látszik, hogy valamelyik őstől örököltem a jó nyelvérzéket, mert amikor még diák voltam, a rabbi leányával, Wesel Szárával tanultam németül is. És megtanultam németül is. Az iskolában tanítottak franciául, megtanultam a franciát is. És ez nagyon jót tett. Amikor jártam külföldre, sose egyedül voltam, mindig egy-egy csoporttal voltam, és sose küldtek velem tolmácsot, én tolmácsoltam franciául is, németül is az egész delegációnak. És ugyanilyen jó nyelvérzéke van a leányomnak. Beszél románul, magyarul, perfekt héberül, angolul, franciául. És az unoka is majdnem mindent.

A háború alatt ott voltunk Tordán. Háború alatt a következő történt. Eleinte mi laktunk a házunkban, a család, aztán rendre-rendre kezdődtek a rekvirálások. Úgy minősítették, hogy plusz helyiségünk van, amit nem használunk. És elvették, hogy biztosítsák a román hadsereg elszállásolását. Betettek a két kicsi szobába egy orvos katonatisztet, ez lehetett 1938–39-ben. Arra emlékszem, hogy Dumitrescu Traiannak hívták, egy ezredes volt. Használta a konyhát is, volt egy baka, egy kiskatona ordonánca, ordonanţă [románul], úgy hívták ezeket, az jött, főzött, nem volt, mit csináljunk, muszáj volt mindent tudomásul vegyünk, haptákba álljunk. Aztán 1940-ben vagy 1941-ben, mindjárt miután elfoglalták Kolozsvárt a magyarok [lásd: második bécsi döntés, magyar idők] – a határ a Feleken volt [Torda 1940 és 1944 között Romániához tartozott, a magyar–román határ kb. 20 km-re feküdt tőle. – A szerk.] –, teljesen kitettek a házból, mert a mi házunkban alapították a Csénérét (Centrul Naţional de Românizare [Románosítási Nemzeti Központ]). Ez foglalkozott a menekültek problémájával, akik Magyarországról jöttek vissza. Mi az Aranyos túlsó partján béreltünk ki egy házat, azért természetesen házbért kellett fizetni. Visszaemlékszem, hogy a tulajdonosnak volt tíz háza, öt az egyik utcán, és öt az utca háta mögött, azokat mindig kiadta, úgy tudtuk kibérelni [mi is az egyiket]. Ott laktunk egészen a háború végéig. Mindjárt az átadás után, mikor hatalomra került az Antonescu birodalma, az apámat menesztették az állásából, merthogy zsidó volt [lásd: zsidótörvények Romániában]. És akkor betegedett meg, körülbelül 1943-ban. Persze, ez emésztette, és hozzájárult a betegségének a súlyosbodásához.

Mikor a legionaristák kezdték a rebeliunét [lázadást], 1941. január huszonkettedikén-huszonharmadikán [lásd: Horia Sima; legionárius mozgalom], akkor a hatóságok lázadóknak könyvelték el őket, és ahol volt valami kilengés, ott nem teketóriáztak. Tordán is agyonlőtt a csendőrség egy pasast, amikor a rebeliune volt a szénapiacon. Ahogy mennek most a tordai hasadék felé, ott volt egy térség, és nem tudom, mit csinált ott, főbe lőtték. Úgy emlékszem, Comannak hívták.

Nem sok legionarista volt annak idején Tordán, de megpróbáltak mindent [elkövetni a zsidók ellen]. Üzletekre ki volt függesztve, nyomtatva: „Atenţiune, magazin jidovesc!” [Vigyázat, zsidó üzlet!] Voltak, akiket kínoztak, mert szakállasok voltak, meg pájeszosak voltak. Voltak antiszemita kilengések. Amikor mentünk az iskolába, ott álltak csoportosan az inasiskolából érkezők vagy menők, és mert zsidók voltunk, mindig kaptunk egy-egy ruhát. Felszabadulás után barátom lett az egyik fiú közülük, és megkérdeztem, „Te, miért vertél meg minden nap?”. Megmondta: „Aztán, az volt a divat.” Volt egy pedagógusuk, aki nagy legionarista volt, az kötelezte őket, hogy jelentsék, hány zsidót vertek meg, és így mindig meg kellett verjenek. Szóval nem volt semmi rosszindulat benne, de ezt csinálta. A végén jóban lettem vele, Roş Ioannak hívták. Ügyész lett belőle, aztán főügyész Sebesen és Szászvároson, aztán főügyészhelyettes lett Déván, és a végén lett Secretarul Sfatului Regional Deva [a Tartományi Tanács titkára Déván].

Otthon nem hallottam semmit az észak-erdélyi helyzetről, mert megbetegedett az apám, és akkor nálunk egyetlenegy probléma volt, az apámnak a mentése. Az anyám kezelte az apámat, a nővérem el volt menve [Nagyváradra iskolába], és mi, a két fiú rendeztük a házat. Bevásároltunk, takarítottunk, főztünk, mosogattunk, mostunk, mindent az égvilágon csináltunk, hogy enyhítsük az anyánknak a terhét. Valami végkielégítést kapott az apám a gyártól, de már akkor is kellett áruljon az anyám, értékesítsen valamit a házból. Nagyon sok szép ezüst gyertyatartónk volt, amelyek értékesek voltak, azokat adta el.

Tordán majdnem szemtanúi voltunk néhányan olyan dolognak, ami titkosan zajlott le. Ez a Frenkel Magda tanárnő, mikor egyszer készültem menni Izraelbe, üzent, hogy menjek, beszélgessek vele, érezte, hogy közeledik a halál. Én tényleg nagyon tiszteltem őt mindig, és elmentem Kolozsvárra [a háború után Tordáról ő oda költözött], ott lakott a Györfalvi negyedben. Azt mondja: „Te, Jóska, emlékszel, hogy én nem engedtelek, hogy bemenjél abba a szobába?” Mondott ott egyet, ahol volt az iskola. Hát mondom: „Tanító néni, én emlékszem, de tetszik tudni, én nemigen kérdeztem, tetszett mondani, nem szabad bemenni, nem mentem.” Azt mondja: „Tudd meg, hogy ott volt a titkos nyomda, ahol nyomtatták az útleveleket, amiket aztán mások átvittek itt, Ajtonon [Aiton (románul), Tordától 18 km-re északra] keresztül Tordáról Kolozsvárra, hogy menekítsék a zsidókat. Tudd meg, hogy ezért nem engedtelek be.” Főleg azok sívolták [csempészték] át ezeket az útleveleket, akik a Cerc Teritorialnál dolgoztak. (A hivatalt, ahol sorozzák be az ifjú katonákat, úgy hívták akkor, hogy Cerc Teritorial). Többek között az egyik barátomnak, Ábrahámnak az unokatestvére is szállította az útleveleket, Ábrahám Jákobnak hívták, nagyobb volt, mint én. Mindig át lehet menni minden határon. Illegálisan. És egy adott pillanatban elkapták, lezárták, törvényre került, és halálra ítélték. Úgy menekült meg, hogy beugrott közben augusztus huszonhárom, és augusztus huszonhárommal az egész feloldódott. És Goró Eszter, akivel én együtt vizsgáztam 1943-ban, az is részt vett abban, hogy mentsék a zsidókat. Két folyosó volt [ahol szöktek át a zsidók], az egyik [Torda]Szentlászló [Săvădisla (románul), Kolozsvártól 23 km-re délkeletre] környékén, a másik Ajton környékén, ott voltak beütemezve falusi emberek, becsületes falusi emberek, akik az éjszaka leplén mentették a zsidókat. Aztán Bukaresten keresztül mentek Izraelbe [akkor: Palesztina].

A tényleges háború 1944. augusztus harmincadikán kezdődött, amikor bejöttek a magyarok és a németek, és egész [Nagy]Enyedig [Aiud (románul), Tordától 37 km-re délre] mentek. Miután bejöttek a magyarok, akkor fel kellett tenni a sárga csillagot [lásd: sárga csillag Magyarországon], harminchét napig, és kijárási tilalom is volt. Azelőtt nem volt ilyen. Az az időszak nagyon feszült volt. Mindenki félt mindenkitől. És mi még nem tudtuk [az elején], hogy kik ezek a kakastollasok, de úgy féltünk, mindig menekültünk tőlük. Nagyon komiszak voltak, ha valami nem tetszett nekik, akkor abban a pillanatban belekötöttek az emberbe, és elkezdték ütni-verni. Amikor bejöttek a magyarok, a románok felrobbantották az Aranyos-hidat. Az beszakadt, és építettek egy pontonhidat. Ott történt egy nagy gazság. Érkezett oda a magyar hatóságoktól egy munkaszolgálatos osztag, akik csinálták ezt a hidat. A hídépítéshez vágtak ki rönköket a híd melletti parkból, és egyszer egy ilyen nagy rönk reáesett két munkaszolgálatos fiúra, egy tizennyolc éves és egy huszonöt éves fiúra. És még meg se voltak halva, a parancsnokuk – egy zászlós kellett legyen – azonnal elrendelte, tegyék be zsákokba, és ott, helyben el is temették. Még nem is voltak meghalva. Aztán 1945. március-áprilisban egy néhány ifjú Tordáról kiástuk őket, és felvittük a tordai temetőbe, eltemettük.

Fel lett szabadulva Torda város 1944. október negyedikén, a magyarok a németekkel visszavonultak, és jöttek befele a románok az oroszokkal. Kétfelől bombázták Tordát. Egyrészt a németek a magyarokkal Kolozsvár felől, másrészt az oroszok a románokkal [Nagy]Enyed felől. Torda egy üregben volt, és fentről mind a ketten lőtték, Torda tönkre volt menve.

Annak idején mi úgy értékeltük – tizenöt éves korunkban –, hogy fel lettünk szabadulva. 1947-ig én részt vettem egy ifjúsági cionista szervezetben, a Gordoniában [lásd: Gordonia Romániában], amelyik ott volt a házunk mellett, a házunk körül, és élveztük azt, hogy felszabadítottak minket. Itt mi volt? Éneklés, táncolás, kirándulás. Amire visszaemlékszem, ugyancsak ifjúsági szervezet volt Tordán a Dror Habonim [Zsidó cionista szervezet, főleg Jászvásáron, Moldvában, Románia keleti részén volt aktív szervezet az 1930-as években. – A szerk.], a Hasomér Hacair [lásd: Hasomér Hacair Romániában], és még volt egy, de keveset láttam őket, Betárnak [lásd: Betár Romániában] hívták. A Hasomér Hacair, Dror Habonim és a Gordonia baloldali beállítottságú volt, a Betár jobboldali a mostani körülmények között. Ugyancsak kirándulásokat, mulatságokat szerveztek, és persze mindegyik ilyen szervezethez hozzájárult a zsidó fiatalok toborzása, hogy kimenjenek Izraelbe. Voltak például ilyen seliáhok, küldöncök Izraelből, akik magyarázták, hogy hogy nevelkedhet az ifjúság Izraelben. Volt, aki magáévá tette, volt, aki nem.

1944-ben, a felszabadulás után aztán visszamentünk a házunkba, mert akkor törlesztettek minden ilyen intézkedést. A házban a berendezés megvolt, volt, ami tönkre is volt menve, de rendbe tettük. Kellett cserepet cseréljünk, mert széjjelment az egész fedél. És akkor azzal az unokatestvéremmel, amelyik egy nap született velem, Hertzlinger Jóskával elmentünk egy szekérrel, és hoztunk a gyéresi cserépgyárból egy szekér cserepet, mert adtak nekünk, hogy az apánk ott dolgozott. És ketten lefedtük a házat.

Az apám sajnos ötvenöt éves korában meghalt, nem lehetett megmenteni. Vittük mindenfelé, a felszabadulás előtt nem lehetett Kolozsvár felé jönni [Mivel 1940 és 1944 között Kolozsvár magyar fennhatóság alatt volt. – A szerk.], Tordán laktunk, és a felszabadulás után elment az anyám vele Szebenbe. Ott volt a kolozsvári klinika Szebenben, az 1940–44-es években Kolozsvárról a román orvosok átmentek Szebenbe. De visszaküldték, a diagnózis egy gyomorrák volt, ami elpusztította, 1945. március hatodikán meghalt.

Aztán betettek egy zsidó családot hozzánk, miután meghalt az apánk. De nagyon jól egyeztünk velük, nem volt semmi probléma. Temesvárt él egy költő, körülbelül kilencvenhat-kilencvenhét éves, Anavi Ádámnak hívják, de az ő eredeti neve Frucht Feri volt [Anavi Ádám (1909) – költő, színműíró. – A szerk.]. És ez a Frucht család költözött oda hozzánk. Ő, a fiú elment Temesvárra, az egyik leány elment Kolozsvárra, és a másik leány az anyjával maradt ott a mi házunkban, ameddig meg nem haltak. Először meghalt az anya, aztán a lánya is, ennek az Anavi Ádámnak a nővére, és akkor megürült a ház. Az édesanyám még ott lakott, miután ezek elhaltak. Mielőtt mentek Izraelbe, akkor adták el a házat. És azoknak a házába [lakásába, akik megvették a házat] költöztek be az öcsémék az anyámmal, ez a lakás Tordán a sóbánya mellett volt, úgy is hívták a blokkot [tömbházat], hogy sóbányai blokk. Vagy hét-nyolc hónapig laktak itt, amíg elmentek Izraelbe.

Az apám halála után próbálkozott az anyám valamiképpen tenni-venni, eladogatott dolgokat a házból, a nővérem közben férjhez ment, de nem volt más megoldás, mint hogy én elmenjek dolgozni, mikor betöltöttem a tizennyolc évet. Pont október negyedikén [Azaz a születésnapján. – A szerk.], 1947-ben a gyógyszerész nagybátyámnak a segítségével felvettek a tordai cementgyárba. Ott kezdtem, mint abszolút kezdő, és 1949-ben volt egy országos szintű intézkedés, hogy száz embert kivontak az iparból, elvitték Bukarestbe, és tanították planifikáréra, tervezésre, és én is közöttük voltam. A volt Gazdasági és Ipari Minisztériumnál (Ministerul Economiei şi Industriei) volt ez, azt tanították, hogy kell megszervezni a vállalatokat, miután 1948. június tizenegyedikén államosították őket [lásd: államosítás Romániában]. Akkor egy olyan papírt kaptunk, hogy instructor de planificare [tervezési instruktor]. Amikor 1947-ben elkezdtem dolgozni, még privát volt egészen a tordai cementgyár, aztán lett állami, és miután megcsináltam ezt a kurzust, oda lettem téve a plánifikáréra, és kineveztek rövid időn belül a tervosztály vezetőjének. Nem tudtam egyetemre menni, mert mikor nekifogtam dolgozni, odaadtam magam a munkának. Valószínűleg, hogyha egy cseppet több eszem lett volna, valamiképpen megcsinálom, sokan megcsinálták akkor. De én nem próbáltam magamat lazsálni, odaadtam magamat a munkának. 1952-ben, ugyanebben a minőségben áthelyeztek Bicazba [Békás], ahol épült egy új cementgyár. Ott voltam egy évig, és 1953-ban ki lettem nevezve Bukarestbe, az Építőanyagok Minisztériumába (Ministerul Materialelor de Contrucţii), amely kivált a Ministerul Contrucţiilor şi Materialelor de Contrucţiiból egy időben, de egy épületben volt a két minisztérium, a Ministerul Contrucţiilor és a Ministerul Materialelor de Contrucţii. Ugyanebben a minőségben dolgoztam, és ugyanezt a meghatalmazást kaptam, tervosztályvezető az Industriei Cimentuluinál [Cementipari Vezérigazgatóság]. Itt az egész ország cementiparának a megszervezése volt a feladat, hogy melyik gyár mennyit termeljen, milyen körülmények között, milyen létszámmal, milyen fizetésekkel. Szóval mindent csináltunk, és dolgoztam reggeltől estig.

Bukarestben dolgoztam, és be voltam futva fiatal koromban, de óriási probléma volt akkor a lakás. Egy szolgálati blokkban [tömbházban] laktunk, két és fél szobában laktunk három család. Két kolléga, akiknek volt felesége, a két szobában, és volt egy cselédszoba, ahol volt egy mosdó, azt nekem adták. Nekem nagyon jó volt, amíg egyedül voltam, hét négyzetméter, befért a kanapé, egy szekrény és több semmi. De közben megnősültem, és kellett egy más lakás. A feletteseim, a miniszter, a miniszterhelyettes mindent az égvilágon megígért. Ott, ugyanabban a blokkban megürült egy garzonlakás, ami valamivel nagyobb volt, mint ez, de külön volt. Ezt nekem kiutalták, az én nevemre a feleségemmel együtt, és amikor kiadták a repartíciót, úgy, ahogy annak idején adták, kiadták egy utcai kokottnak. A volt rajon elnöke párttitkár volt nálunk a minisztériumban, és ő diktált mindent az égvilágon a miniszter fölött. Úgyhogy mi ott maradtunk abban a fél szobában. És akkor én elmentem a miniszterhez, és megmondtam: „Tovarăşul ministru, eu plec din Bucureşti.” [Miniszter elvtárs, én elmegyek Bukarestből.] „Măi, eşti nebun?” [„Te megbolondultál?”] „Tovarăşul ministru, nici un minut nu mai stau.” [Miniszter elvtárs, egy percet sem maradok.] Nem akarták elhinni, mert nagyon jól éltem ott, nagyon jól befutottam, amikor hiányoztak az igazgatók, mindig csak engem hívott a miniszter, akármilyen probléma volt. Akkor egyszer történt valami Désen, és a miniszterhelyettes azt mondja, „Măi, sa întâmplat ceva, hai să-ţi spun”. [Te, történt valami Désen, gyere, mondjam el.] „Spuneţi.” [Mondja.] „Vezi, că trebiue să dăm afară pe directorul de la Dej. Te duci director la Dej?” [Nézd, ki kell tegyük a dési igazgatót. Elmész Désre igazgatónak?] „Mă duc oriunde, numai să plec de aici.” [Elmegyek akárhova, csak hogy elmehessek innen.] És 1957-ben eljöttem, nagyon-nagyon hamar likvidáltam, még egy barátom hozta el a feleségemet Bukarestből valamivel később. Én küldtem egy teherkocsit a dési gyárból, ahova jöttem, és arra rakták fel a dolgainkat, ami abban a kicsi, hét négyzetméteres szobában volt. Ez az Ábrahám Jidu is ott élt Bukarestben, ő segített felpakolni az autóra, és jött ő is a feleségemmel, nagyon jó barátok voltunk és vagyunk.

És 1957-től itt vagyok Désen. Először kineveztek a dési cementgyárhoz igazgatónak, ez tartott 1958-ig, amíg ki nem tettek a pártból [lásd: párttisztogatás Romániában]. Nem lett baj abból a szempontból, hogy zsidó voltam, mert nem adtam alkalmat arra, hogy tévedjek. Bajom abból lett, hogy beírtam az önéletrajzomba, hogy tagja voltam a Gordoniának. Ebből kellemetlenségem lett, kezdődött Bukarestben, és miután Désre kerültem, jött egy papír a főigazgatómhoz, hogy kizárnak a pártból. Jöttek nagy hűhóval, bemutatták az esetet egy pártgyűlésen, és kizártak a pártból. A főigazgató azonnal leváltott, mert nem vagyok párttag, de maradtam termelésiosztály-főnök ugyanazzal a fizetéssel. Amikor Vajda – ő volt annak idején a kolozsvári [párt]főtitkár, majd mezőgazdasági miniszter lett, miután elvitték Kolozsvárról – megtudta néhány hét múlva, hogy kizártak a pártból, és leváltottak mint igazgatót, csinált egy nagy kravált [botrány], hogy miért váltottak le, és azonnal tegyenek vissza igazgatóvá. Akkor keresték nekem ezt a helyiipari vállalatot (Intreprindere de Industrie Locală), a Bobâlnát, és oda tettek mint igazgatót.

Egyáltalán nem sírtam el magam, amikor kitettek a pártból. Amikor tizennyolc éves voltam, akkor felvettek, 1958-ban kizártak, és 1971-ben visszavettek. Bocsánatot kértek, hogy tévedés volt, és visszavettek. Mi lehetett a nagy vétkem? Hogy tizenöt éves koromban beiratkoztam egy ilyen ifjúsági szervezetbe?

Ilyen körülmények közt voltam vagy tizenhárom éven keresztül igazgató és „exclus din partid” [a pártból kizárt]. De nem volt semmi problémám, mert végeztem a munkámat, és külföldön is voltam. 1971-ben voltam Belgiumban egy kiállításon, Salon International de Artă Menajeră [Nemzetközi Belsődíszítési Kiállítás], így hívták a kiállítást, voltam Brüsszelben, Anversben [Antwerpen], és egy Izegem nevű város volt, ahol voltak kuncsaftjaink. Onnan átmentünk Hollandiába, ott Hágában tanyáztunk, voltunk Amszterdamban, Utrechtben, Nijmegenben. Kereskedelmi kapcsolataink voltak ott, kisbútort termeltünk, és azt árultuk. Akkor Bukarestből a Külkereskedelmi Vállalat – Ilexim, úgy hívták, Industria Locală Export-Import – egy osztályvezetőjével voltam és egy kollégámmal, aki Székelykeresztúrról származott. Voltam Kelet-Németországban is 1972-ben, amikor zsarnokság volt, a Leipzigi Nemzetközi Kiállításon [Németországot a második világháború befejeződése után a megszálló szövetséges hatalmak négy övezetre osztották föl. 1949-ben a három nyugati megszálló hatalom egyesítette saját megszállási övezeteit, és a nyugati zóna 10 tartományából létrehozták a Német Szövetségi Köztársaságot (NSZK, a köznapi használatban: Nyugat-Németország). Erre válaszul a Szovjetunió, szintén 1949-ben a saját megszállási övezetében lévő 5 tartományból létrehozta a Német Demokratikus Köztársaságot (NDK). Berlin, a főváros továbbra is négyhatalmi megszállás alatt maradt, keleti része lett az NDK fővárosa, az NSZK fővárosa pedig Bonn lett. Az NDK vezetése 1961-ben felhúzta a Kelet-Berlint Nyugat-Berlintől elválasztó ún. berlini falat, amely a megosztott Európa szimbóluma maradt 1989-ig. Az NDK-ban az 1990. márciusi választásokon az újonnan alakult jobboldali pártok győztek, és az újjáalakult tartományok októberben csatlakoztak a Német Szövetségi Köztársasághoz. Ezzel az NDK mint önálló állam megszűnt. – A szerk.]. Minden reggel kellett jelentkezzünk kilenc órakor [a kiállításon], este hat órakor volt a befejezés, hét órakor kellett menjünk a követségre gyűlésezni. Ez egyfajta ellenőrzés volt, hogy még nem léptünk le [Nem világos, mire gondol Farkas József: az NDK-ból nem lehetett „lelépni”. – A szerk.]. Minden este. És mire befejeződött a mindennemű gyűlés, elmentünk vacsorázni, és nem kaptunk semmi kosztot, mert mindenki már vacsorázott, de mi gyűléseztünk. És ez volt a divat.

Fiatalkoromban én beiratkoztam a pártba. Elvileg én a kommunista elvet elfogadtam annak idején, főleg gyermekkoromban, mint egy nagyon nemes elvet. Mert akkor volt bennem egy idealizmus, amiben hittem. De mikor lassan-lassan rájöttem, hogy ez ki lett torzítva, annyira, hogy minden az égvilágon tulajdonképpen a fent lévő rétegnek van felpumpálva, és az egész csak beszéd, akkor rájöttem, hogy fals az egész kommunizmus. Mert teoretikusan a kommunizmus nagyon szép volt, és nagyon nemes elveket sugalmazott, ahol lehetett. Csak ahogy csinálták, az egész más volt.

Ilyesmire visszaemlékszem én, hogy mibe kerültem, meg miken mentem keresztül. Pont abban az időben voltak olyan intézkedések, amik megkövetelték, hogy bent kell maradni, dolgozni [túlórázni a gyárban]. Én minden további nélkül bent maradtam három nap és két éjjel, nem volt semmi bajom. Tizenkilenc-húsz éves koromban, huszonegy éves koromban, igaz, hogy akkor tombolt bennem a fiatalság, és akkor nem volt egy probléma. Ezzel szemben, már majdnem 1989 végén annyira megrázott egy teória, de amiről meggyőződtem, hogy egy szabály volt. Többek között foglalkoztunk az exporttal. A vállalat részéről én kellett ezt jelentsem, és vigyem a raportálásokat [jelentéseket]. Ahányszor mentem ezekkel a raportálásokkal Bukarestbe, ordítottak rám, „Modifikáld, és írj valamit pluszba!”. Én nyugodtan mondom: „Írj te! Én nem mondok semmit, ha te… ” „Nem – azt mondja –, te írj.” „Én nem írok semmit.” És ott modifikálták úgy, ahogy akarták. Egyszer volt egy konszilier [tanácsos] nálam, és mondom, „Te, hát hogy létezik, hogy ti ránk parancsoltok, hogy hazudjunk?”. „Nyugi, nyugi – azt mondja –, mi fent voltunk a nagyfőnöknél, Ceauşescunál, és ő adta ki a parancsot: írjatok, amennyit akartok, mert miután írtátok, egész biztos, ha nem aznap, de egy hónap múlva megcsinálják, amit írtatok.” És akkor elgondolkodtam: „Te, figyelj, ide jutottunk mi, hogy most már tizenkét hónapnak a raportálását tizenhárom hónap alatt kell megcsinálni?” „Hogyha így akarja Ceauşescu, akkor mit lehet tenni?” Nagyobb mennyiséget kellett beírni, mint amennyit termeltünk, és ez így volt, egy irány volt, és fentről jött az irány.

Mikor már Désen voltam a Bobâlna igazgatója, és jött Ceauşescu meg a Ceauşescu neve napja [Nicolae, azaz Miklós napja decemberben – A szerk.], köteleztek, hogy mindenféle svancákkal, mindenféle semmiségekkel készüljünk. Mi törtük magunkat, és amit csináltunk, azt verifikálták [ellenőrizték] először Désen, aztán elvitték Kolozsvárra, ahol a kolozsvári bizottság elemezte őket. És volt néhányszor, amikor a miénk keresztülment Kolozsváron is, a második ellenőrzésen is, és azt küldték aztán Ceauşescunak. De a fogadtatása Ceauşescunak és minden olyan erőszakolt volt. Vagy kétszer vagy háromszor bemasíroztatták az egész vállalatot Kolozsvárra, fél négykor indultunk külön vonattal, ott voltunk reggel hatkor, a Clujananál [cipőgyár Kolozsvárott] szálltunk le, onnan bemasíroztunk a [román] operáig, délután jöttünk vissza. Maszkurák voltunk. Mikor utoljára volt Ceauşescu Désen az Irtánál, én azt a megbizatást kaptam mint vállalatvezető, hogy kiterítsem a nagy szőnyeget, amikor lelép a helikopterből, hogy szőnyegre lépjen. Én kellett irányítsam a szőnyeg letételét, vigyek magammal, nem tudom, vagy tizenkét asztalost, azt leszegezzük, hogy nehogy a helikopter propellere felverje. És mellettünk ott álltak a szekusok, minden szekusnak a karján volt egy mikrofon, ami úgy nézett ki, mint egy óra, de azzal felvettek mindent az égvilágon.

Személyesen találkoztam Ceauşescuval 1970-ben, mikor volt az árvíz Désen, kiáradt a Szamos. Megállt nálam [a vállalatnál], és beszélt velem. Akkor nagyon-nagyon meg volt szeppenve, fehér volt az egész fizionómiája, nagyon meg volt ijedve. Mert óriási volt az árvíz, az állomásnál van egy felirat, hogy ott az állomáson kilencszázhatvanhárom centi magas volt a Szamos. Röviden beszélt és nagyon normálisan, kérdezte, hogy milyen következmények vannak, hogy vannak-e áldozataink, vannak-e károk. Mondtam, hogy áldozataink nincsenek [a vállalatnál], és ő mondta, hogy úgy rendezzük a dolgokat, hogyha esetleg beugrik egy áldozat, először az áldozatokat mentsük, és azután a vagyonokat. Ezt mondta ő, és éreztem, hogy ez foglalkoztatja, hogy ne legyen emberi veszteség. Mert itt Désen volt hét halott akkor. Ahogy továbbment, akkor az egyik kuli, amelyik mellette volt, elkezdett kiabálni: „Luaţi măsuri imediat, începeţi producţia!” [Rögtön intézkedjenek, kezdjék el a termelést!] Közben az egész [vállalat] tele volt vízzel, hetven százaléka a gyárunknak el volt árasztva. Én mondtam, hogy „Da, am înţeles”. [Igen, megértettem.] Nem vitatkozok egy…

Nem volt semmi problémám senkivel, semmivel pályafutásom során, se származásom miatt, se másért. Egyszer volt fiatalkoromban egy kellemetlenségem, mikor Bukarestben éltem, letoltam egy gépírónőt. Kértem, hogy valamit csináljon meg nekem, mert hívott a miniszter, sürgősen le kellett adjam. Kezdett ott magyarázni nekem, és akkor letoltam, és egy hét alatt feldolgoztak mindenhol, ahol lehetett, hogy letoltam. Nem voltak megszokva. Ez történt körülbelül 1955-56-ban. És zárójelben, a gépírónő pont egy zsidó leány volt. 1989-ben, amikor volt a forradalom, engem senki nem bántott, senki nem csúfolt, mert élenjárója voltam az üzemnek, és voltak [hasonló beosztásúak], akiknek voltak problémái. Nekem nem volt semmi problémám, hatvanéves koromban automatikusan meghosszabbították a munkámat, és hatvankét éves koromban nyugdíjaztak.

A feleségem Balogh Lili volt, most Farkas Lili, 1935-ben született. Ők echte kolozsváriak, az Émile Zola kilenc szám alatt laktak. Én kiküldetésben voltam Kolozsvárt, ott felkerestem a nővéremet is, és mikor indultam, hogy jöjjek vissza Bukarestbe, azt mondja a nővérem: „Állj meg, hogy mutassak be egy édes kislányt.” A leendőbeli feleségem a volt Metropolban dolgozott, ott volt az ICRTI – Intreprinderea Comerţului cu Ridicata pentru Textile şi Încălţăminte [Textil- és Cipő-nagykereskedelmi Vállalat] –, ahol könyvelőnő volt. A nővérem is valami hasonló vállalatnak dolgozott, ugyancsak az angró textilipart könyvelte, úgy ismerték ők egymást. És kimentünk a Horea utca felé, a nővérem az Uránián innen, a Dácia utcában dolgozott, és épp akkor volt kenyérért a leány, a feleségem. Leállította, és be lettünk mutatva. Tartottuk a kapcsolatot, 1956. márciusban eljegyeztem, és május tizenkilencedikén megesküdtünk. Zárójelben, május tizenkilencedikén volt a mi esküvőnk, és május tizenkilencedikén halt meg az öcsém, most három éve. A mi esketésünk kizárólag polgári volt. Nem volt semmi nézeteltérés a szülők között se, hogy az egyik ráerőszakolta volna a másikra a vallását, és evvel le is zártuk ezt a dolgot. Elmentünk Kolozsvárt a városházára, ott volt a városháza, ahol most van a prefektúra, akkor még kellett két tanú. És utána az anyósomék egyik szomszédasszonya átadta az ő apartamentjüket, és ott volt egy ebéd, a család volt ott, nekem egy barátom és a páromnak egy barátja. Összesen voltunk vagy harmincötön, akkor nem volt az a parádé a borítékokkal, meg nem tudom, mi [Farkas József a nászajándékra utal. – A szerk.].

Apósom, Balogh Albert vasúti műhelyben volt géplakatos. Anyósom, Balogh Berta otthon volt, háztartásbeli. Volt egy ikertestvére a feleségemnek, Bandi, András, aki nagyobb volt egy negyedórával, mint ő. Kolozsváron lakott, volt családja, mechanikai technikumot végzett, és az Unireában, a gépszövőgyárban, dolgozott mint technikus. Sajnos ő is meghalt, 2002. szeptember huszonegyedikén, három hónapra rá, hogy meghalt az öcsém.

A leányom, Ariana 1961 szilveszter éjszakáján született. Egy jó barátom felesége volt a Stancában az írnok, és az mondta: „Te, hallgass, én beírom a lányodat 1962. január elsejére, hogy legyen egy évvel fiatalabb.” És úgy van beírva, hogy 1962. január elsején született. A lányunkat, mikor született, az anyósomék megkeresztelték vagy egy katolikus templomban, vagy egy református templomban – most nem esküszöm meg, melyikben, de sose csináltam belőle problémát. Mert az apósom, úgy emlékszem, hogy katolikus volt, és az anyósom református, de ez se volt probléma sose nálunk. Mikor kicsi volt, magyarul beszéltünk vele, és mikor járt iskolába, én vele románul, és a volt menyasszonyom, a mostani feleségem csak magyarul, főleg, hogy respektálja a nagyanyját, az anyósomékat. De a lányom felnevelkedett a mi családunkban, és én hálát adok az Istennek, hogy úgy nevelkedett, hogy benne több zsidóság van, mondjuk, mint bennem. Röviden mondjuk úgy, hogy én nem vagyok egy harcos. Amit tudok, megcsinálok, csendben, mutyiban, de a lányom harcos. És harcolt a zsidóságért is. Amit tudtam, tanítottam én is neki, megvettem neki mindig az évi zsidó naptárt románra fordítva, abban mindig voltak függelékek, ahol még volt egy csomó minden, és ő azt tanulta. Kolozsváron végezte a gépészmérnöki szakot a Politechnikán, és ott járt a zsidó hitközséghez, járt a kórushoz, ott is tanították őket, tagja volt a kolozsvári dalárdának, amit Halmos Katalin vezetett.

1982-ben férjhez ment, úgy emlékszem, március ötödikén volt a polgárija Kolozsvárt, és március tizenkettedikén itt, Désen volt a lakodalom. Egyházi esküvőt nem tartottak, a férje román ortodox, Suliţeanu Gelunak hívják. Nagyon vegyes volt a házasság: én zsidó, a feleségem református, a vejem ortodox, Moldovából származik az apja, Szilágyságból az anyja.

Amikor elvégezte az egyetemet, még 1989 előtt, repartizálva volt Hunyad megyébe, és én valahogy Opriş Silviu barátommal, aki a Ministerul Materialelor de Construcţiinál volt miniszterhelyettes, elrendeztem, hogy ne menjen Hátszegre [Haţeg, Vajdahunyadtól 25 km-re délre], ahová nem tudott jutni, hanem bekerült Vajdahunyadra az IFET-hez, és ott dolgozott, de Déván lakott. A férje a repülőtéren dolgozott, ő Kolozsvárt lakott, a leányom pedig Déván, egészen addig, ameddig állapotos lett. Akkor szedtük-vettük az orvosi bizonyítványokat, hogy ne mind járjon. 1987. októberben megszületett a gyerekük, Paul, de voltak nézeteltérések a lányom és a férje között, és 1990 körül, 1989-ben vagy 1991-ben, elváltak. Nekem lett egy privát elégtételem, hogy egyszer összejöttünk hárman, és próbáltuk elemezni, hogy tulajdonképpen mi történt. És akkor mind a kettő elmondta nekem nagyon őszintén, hogy mind a kettőnek voltak pluszai, voltak mínuszai, csak mind a kettő egy cseppet dâmb volt, ahogy mondják, nem engedett egyik se a másiknak, ebből lett a nézeteltérés, és akkor úgy határoztak, hogy elválnak. Énnekem ez elég volt, hogy elismerték, hogy mind a kettő hibás volt. De ott maradt a lányom a fiával Kolozsváron. Mindjárt a forradalom után felvették a lányomat a Royal Loyalty céghez, tajvani televíziókat és egyéb elektronikai cikkeket hoztak és árusítottak. Onnan elment a vasúthoz, a Regionálához [a Román Állami Vasutak egy regionális központjához], és osztályvezető volt a SAAF-nál.

2001. augusztus harmincadikán elment Izraelbe, és Izraelben érvényesült. Semmi problémája nincs Izraelben, habár ott keresik az anya származását. Ő be van írva mint Farkas Ariana, nem kérdezték sehol, hogy az anyja zsidó vagy nem zsidó. Egy évig nem dolgozott, ameddig kapta a sztipendiát [Stipendium, ösztöndíj, a román stipendie fonetikus alakja – A szerk.], hogy tanulja a nyelvet. Volt bentlakása, szimbolikusan kellett fizetni a kosztot, de a sztipendiából annyi maradt neki, hogy annyi minden ilyen hosszú távú használati cikket tudott vásárolni, amit itt nem vett volna meg öt év alatt. Ezután dolgozott vagy két-három helyen, mindent magára vállalt, hogy tudjon dolgozni. És most, 2005. január elsejétől, hál’ istennek, bekerült egy nagyon jó állásba, ahol szerződtették is, és az anyagi is megugrott, igaz, hogy három év után. Haifa mellett lakik, Karmielben, van ott egy ipari park, Barler, ott mint gépészmérnök dolgozik a Fishmann üzemben, ahol dolgoznak vagy százharminc-száznegyvenen,  mindenféle termosztátokat – autótermosztátokat, kemencetermosztátokat, teherkocsi-termosztátokat – gyártanak.

Most van egy élettársa, akivel együtt laknak, Segal Eliének hívják, a szülei brăilaiak, de azt hiszem, ő ott született Izraelben. Egy kicsit konyít a románhoz, de héberül beszélnek. A lányom a fiával héberül beszél, mielőtt elmentek románul beszélt, mert a férje román volt. A mostani férje is el van válva, mint a leányom, van gyermeke, és az nagyon sokat számít, hogyha két élettárs gondoz egy-egy gyermeket. Hét évig volt Amerikában a volt feleségével és két gyermekkel, és a harmadik ott született. A fia befejezte a katonaságot, a nagyobbik leánya befejezte a tanulmányát, és a kicsi gyermek, a harmadik maradt velük. A volt felesége most ugyanabban a városban lakik, és nincs semmi probléma.

Az unokám, Paul líceumba jár, most végezte a tizenegyediket, jövőre érettségizik. Ott van egy nagyon érdekes rendszer: a tizedik osztálytól kezdődően minden évben két-három tantárgyból leérettségiznek. És mire befejezi a tizenkettediket, össze van gyűjtve a vizsga két-három tantárgyból a tizedikből, két-három tantárgy a tizenegyedikből, ahhoz hozzáteszik a tizenkettedikeseket, és totálisan le van érettségizve. Nagyon jó viszonyban van a gyermek az apjával, az apja a gyermekkel. Most itt van egy hónapot vagy hat hetet, hozzánk is jön, de főleg az apjánál van, ő viszi [jobbra-balra]. Az apja itt van Kolozsvárt, a repülőtéren dolgozik, ő az igazgató a forgalomirányítási osztályon, velünk is nagyon jó viszonyban van.

A vallásosság egy nagyon relatív dolog. Nekem van egy abszolút személyi teóriám. Én magamat tartom a legkorrektebbnek, mondjuk, az Isten előtt, hogy én mindenkit tisztelek az ő saját vallásában. Én nem tudok valakit lefumigálni, hogy miért ez, és miért nem az, és se hogy bigott vagy ateista, se hogy ortodox vagy görög katolikus, se hogy református vagy katolikus, mindenkit tisztelek, aki hisz az ő nemében [saját vallásában]. Valaki nagyon békülékeny kell legyen, hogy mindenkit tudjon tisztelni, és én tisztelem mindegyiket, amelyik a maga nemében viszi tovább az ő vallását, én mindegyiket respektálom, és nem zavarom egyiket sem. De van olyan, aki nagyon sokszor csak azért jön a templomba, hogy lássák, hogy jött a templomba. Nem, hogy imádkozzon, hanem hogy lássák, hogy jött. És ez érvényes akármelyik vallásnál.

Én a zsidó vallást tartottam, miután megnősültem is. Nem jártam minden nap a templomba, de minden ünnepnap részt vettem [a szertartáson], vagy mikor halotti megemlékezés volt valamelyik ünnepen. Újévkor, Jom Kipurkor, Pészahkor vagy Savuotkor a Jizkornál mindig itt voltam [Jizkor – bizonyos nagyünnepek utolsó napján a templomi szertartás során megemlékeznek a közösség halottairól és mártírjairól. – A szerk.]. Gyertyát szombatra nem gyújtottunk [lásd: gyertyagyújtás]. Mert van egy érdekes dolog, amire csak most jöttem rá, öregkoromra. Gyertyát péntek este az asszonyok gyújtanak, nem a férfiak. És én meg voltam szeppenve, hogy a lányomnál [Izraelben] a párja nem gyújt gyertyát, de minden péntek este meghálálja a kalácsot, és tölt egy pohár bort egy serlegbe, amire mond egy imát, aztán azt a serleget kikóstolja mindenki. Szóval azt akarom mondani, hogy a gyertyát csak az asszonyok gyújtják, nem a férfiak. Az anyám gyújtott gyertyát. De miután eltűnt az anyám, akkor már nem gyújtott senki nálunk [A nőknek adott három micva egyike a péntek esti gyertyagyújtás. A micva eredetileg parancsolatot, isteni rendeletet jelentett, ma már bármilyen jó cselekedet, jótétemény micva, akár mások, akár önmagunk megsegítésére irányul. Jutalom ugyan nem jár a jó cselekedetért, de semmilyen fizikai bámtalom nem érheti azt, aki éppen micvát teljesít. – A szerk.].

A kipámat magamnál hordom, nálam van mindig. Azt hiszem, Izraelben vettem, amikor egyszer ott voltam. Amikor bemennek a mi templomunkba, a férfiak kell tegyenek egy kipát a fejükre. És azt mondják a rabbik, azért kell tenni a kipát, mert te, aki halandó vagy, nem vagy egyenlő az Istennel. Az Isten és egy halandó közt kell legyen valami válaszként. És az a kipa, az fedi a fejet, a koponyát, hogy ne lépj közvetlenül érintkezésbe a fentvaló Istennel. Körülbelül így magyarázzák a rabbik. Én ezt is elhiszem, és nem kételkedem.

Hanukára mindig jött ide [Désre] a temesvári rabbi [Dr. Neumann Ernő temesvári főrabbiról va szó – A szerk.], és miután meghalt a rabbi, küldenek Bukarestből egy ilyen oficiant de cultot [előimádkozót]. Az egyik nap, amikor planifikálva van, akkor összegyűlünk a templomban, a kisteremben. Gyújtanak gyertyát, annyi gyertyát, ahányadik napja van az ünnepnek. Mert nyolc napig kell gyertyát gyújtani, első nap egyet, második nap kettőt, harmadik nap hármat és nyolcadik nap nyolcat [Farkas József nem említi a szolgalángot, a sámást, amellyel meggyújtják a gyertyákat, és azt is égni hagyják a meggyújtott gyertyák mellett. Lásd: Hanuka. – A szerk.]. A többi ünnepeket csak úgy egymás között tartjuk. Bemegyünk a templom előszobájába, nem a nagyterembe, és mindenki imádkozik, ahogy tud.

Nem gondoltam arra, hogy elmenjek Izraelbe, két oknál fogva. Elsősorban élt az anyám. Özvegy maradt az anyám, és eszembe se jutott, hogy valamiképpen leszakadjak tőle, mert én voltam a liblingje neki, az ő kedveltje a nővérem mellett és az öcsém mellett én mint közbeeső. És tekintettel arra, hogy özvegyasszony maradt, kötelességemnek tartottam, hogy ebből ne ugorjak ki, és ne evezzek másfelé. Miután megnősültem, 1956. májusban, és elvettem egy magyar leányt, neki éltek a szülei, és ugyanúgy gondolkozott, mint én, hogy nem akar leszakadni a családjától. Nagyon jó viszonyban voltunk a feleségem családjával. És akkor ez így ment előre, közben a nővérem elment, az öcsém elment, de mi letelepedtünk itt, itt vertünk tanyát.

Én tízszer voltam Izraelben. Először voltam 1978-ban, azután 1980-ban, 1982-ben, 1986-ban, 1991-ben, 1994-ben, amikor meghalt a nővérem, aztán voltam még egyszer, 2002-ben, akkor meghalt az öcsém, és miután kiment a leányom, most már harmadszor voltam. Az idén hat hetet ültem. A feleségem is volt kétszer, de ő külön ment, nem akkor, amikor én. Én nem vagyok elfogult, se pro, se kontra, de annyit tudok mondani Izraelről, és részben evvel dicsekszem, hogy ennek a kicsi államnak, amelyik csak egy talpalatnyi, ötvenhét év alatt azt sikerült csinálnia, mint Amerikának. Mert Izrael egy kicsi Amerika. Minden van ebben az Izraelben, és olyan dolgokat csinálnak, hogy Amerika vásárol tőlük. Ők kevesebbet vásárolnak az amerikaiaktól. Nem sokan tudták ezt megcsinálni, de ezek megcsinálták, mert törekedtek. Én fel vagyok villanyozva ezzel az egész Izraellel. Ahányszor voltam 1978-tól kezdve, évről évre mindig többet és újabbat találtam.

Az emberek milyenek Izraelben? Megmondom, milyenek, mert itt egy lényeges nézeteltérés van köztem és a párom között. Habár az én párom hangos, de az izraeliek is mind hangosak. És akkor nagyon nehezen lehet egyeztetni az álláspontjukat a hangosoknak. Én megszoktam, engem nem zavar. Nekik ilyen a természetük. Annyi mindenen mentek keresztül… Van egy zsidó közmondás, hogy ha történik valami, akkor a zsidók nem hagyják egymást lemészárolni, vagy nem tudom mi, de élni se hagyják egymást akkor, amikor nem harcolnak. Szóval mindegyik civakodik, így vannak berendezkedve.

Amit az 1989-es változásokról mondhatok [lásd: 1989-es román forradalom], az majdnem hasonlít ahhoz, amit mondtam a kommunizmusról. Szóval nagyon fel voltam villanyozva mindenféle szempontból, hogy ni, egy új történelmi éposz következik. Én nem mondom kategorikusan se azt, hogy forradalom volt, se azt, hogy államcsíny volt, egy olyan kavarodás volt az egész. De sajnos, és lehet, hogy ez a legszomorúbb része, fennmaradtak és tovább virágzanak a volt kommunisták és a volt szekuritátésok. Erre mérget veszek. Ezekből lett a legtöbb üzletember, ezek csinálták a legnagyobb bizniszeket. Ezek tudták, hogy mikor kell elmenni útlevéllel vagy útlevél nélkül, mikor lehet behozni vámmentesen mindent az égvilágon 1989–90-ben. És ezek lettek a nagy… és véletlenül tudok neveket.

Határozottan merem mondani azt, hogy fiatalon felvergődtem egy bizonyos szintig, egy bizonyos nívóig. És akkor is, amikor dolgoztam, egy közepes nívón voltam, habár harmincegynéhány éven keresztül igazgató voltam. Egy közepes átlag volt a fizetésem, és mindenféle járandóságom. Tovább ugyanez a státusom maradt meg mint nyugdíjasnak. Szóval se nem kevés, se nem magas. És ezt próbálom egyszer-egyszer a páromnak is mondani, hogy mi soha nem szabad zúgolódjunk, mert mellettünk és körülöttünk annyian vannak, akik sínylődnek, és nekünk azért együtt csak van háromszáz dollár nyugdíjunk. Én dolgoztam negyvenkilenc évet, a feleségem dolgozott harmincnyolc évet, szóval megdolgoztunk érte. És azt mondja, hogy kevés. Persze hogy lehetne több is. Most 2005. július elsején volt egy rekalkulálás, újraszámították a nyugdíjakat, és rájöttem, hogy az enyémből hiányzik, nem számították bele a vezetői pótlékot. De én nem fogok utánajárni.

Én azt mondom, ameddig a fentvaló tart minket… mert körülbelül én így gondolkozom, hogy a behívó az már ki van töltve, csak nincs elküldve, hogy mikor kell felmenni az égbe. Hétköznapokon délelőtt bejárok a hitközséghez, egy órakor hazamegyek, beebédelek, egy kicsit alszok, azután olvasok két-három órán keresztül, megnézem a híreket, nálunk egy nagyon jó udvar van a blokk [tömbház] háta mögött, pláne most, nyáron kimegyek az udvarra, vannak padok, eltelik az idő. Élveztem, amikor elmentem a leányomhoz, most élvezem, hogy itt van az unokám. Mindent tudok élvezni, nem csinálok problémát semmiből.
 

Forgács Tibor

Életrajz

Dr. Forgács Tibor kettesben él feleségével a IX. kerület jobbik részén, közel a Közgazdaságtudományi Egyetemhez, egy 1930-as években épült ötemeletes bérház két szoba összkomfortos lakásában. A lakás berendezése is felnőtté válásuk, az 1930-as évek értelmiségi divatját tükrözi, de minden, a fotelek, az íróasztal, a könyvespolc is kissé megkopott.

A dédszülőkről semmit nem tudok, már nem éltek, amikor én születtem. Nem is meséltek róluk. Apai nagyapám, Freikind Ignác suszter volt. Furtán [Bihar vm.] született, ott is élt sokáig, aztán elköltözött Komádiba [Bihar vm.-ben lévő nagyközség, 1910-ben 8600, 1920-ban 8700 fő lakossal. – A szerk.], és ott halt meg valamikor az 1930-as években. Nem tudom pontosan, hány testvére volt, én csak egyet ismertem, a Béni bácsit, aki egy rendkívül peches ember volt. Azt mondta, hogy ha ő kalapos lenne, akkor az emberek fej nélkül születnének. Ővele történt a következő eset. Valamilyen ügyben beidézték őt a bíróságra Berettyóújfaluba. Akkor még nem volt autóbuszjárat, vagy gyalog, vagy lóháton, vagy szekéren lehetett bejutni. Talált egy szekerest, aki ment éppen. Bevitték tanúskodni, és persze hát visszamenni nem tudott, és egy ismerőshöz ment, hogy adjon szállást. Nagyon szívesen adtak neki, de mondták, hogy nincs külön szobájuk, hanem itt van egy kisgyerek, és abban a szobában egy másik ágy. És mondták neki, hogy ha éjjel ki kell menni, szóljon nekik, mert a kutya esetleg megharapja. Na most az éjjel fölébredt, és pisilni kellett neki. Szégyellte, hogy most ezért felkeltse őket. Spekulált, spekulált, hogy mit csináljon, és eszébe jutott egy mentőötlet. Fogta a kisgyereket, áttette a saját ágyába, és belepisilt a gyerek ágyába. Ment vissza, közben a gyerek becsinált az ő ágyába. Erre azt mondta, hogy nem érdekli a kutya, és kimászott az ablakon, és eljött, hogy ne találkozzon a háziakkal. Ez volt a Béni bácsi. Ezt ismertem.

Apai nagyanyám, Lévi Eszter 1848-ban született Biharnagybajomban [Bihar vm.]. Biztosan voltak testvérei, de én nem ismertem őket. Amikor a nagyapám meghalt, akkor oda költözött egy egyik fiához, apám bátyjához, aki szintén Komádiban élt.

Anyai nagyapám, Mittelmann Lajos 1860-ban született Érolasziban [Bihar vm.-ben lévő község, 1910-ben nem egészen 800 főnyi lakossal. – A szerk.]. Kocsmáros volt Székelyhídon [Bihar vm.-ben lévő nagyközség, 1910-ben 5300 lakosa volt, a trianoni békeszerződéssel Romániához került. – A szerk.]. Ez egy olyan kis falusi kocsma volt. Nagyon stramm ember volt. Arról volt nevezetes, hogy a vizet csak mosdásra használta. Sohasem volt ittas, de csak bort ivott. Magyarázta nekem, hogy a víz a legveszélyesebb ital, mindenféle betegséget lehet kapni tőle: vízkórságot, kólikát stb. Az öregnek az volt a szokása, hogy korán reggel megivott egy kupica pálinkát, majd pipára gyújtott, s csak később reggelizett. Az orvos azt mondta neki úgy ötvenéves korában, hogy hagyja abba ezt a rossz szokását, ne mérgezze magát az éhgyomorra ivott pálinkával és a pipázással, mert így nem garantál neki hosszú éveket. Az orvost már rég eltemették, a nagyapám meg 80 éves korában sem változtatott a szokásain. Én utoljára 86 éves korában láttam, mivel a másik lányánál élt Temesvárott. Megkérdeztem, hogy van. „Nem jól, fiam.” „Mi a baj?” „Ha sokat megyek, elfáradok” – volt a válasz. 87 éves korában halt meg ép fogakkal. Az ő testvéreiről sem tudok semmit.

Anyai nagyanyám, Bauer Betti 1866-ban született Érsemjénben [Bihar vm.-ben lévő község volt, a trianoni békeszerződéssel Romániához került. – A szerk.]. Egy testvéréről tudok, Bauer Józsefről. Ez a Bauer József ilyen közvetítő volt, azzal foglalkozott, hogy összehozta az üzleteket, és akkor százalékot kapott. Ő vette el sorban apám húgait. Tehát tulajdonképpen a nagybácsikájukhoz mentek hozzá.

Az apámnak ugyanis volt két húga, Hermin és Sára. Mindketten az 1890-es években születtek Komádiban. Bauer József elvette Hermint, született két gyerek, és Hermin meghalt. Erre elvette Hermin húgát, a Sárát. Attól is lett két gyereke. Hermintől született Magda, aki Izraelben él, és László, aki túlélte a háborút, és Nagyváradon halt meg 1996-ban. Nem volt családja. Sárától született Sándor és Klári. Sándor 1945-ben kiment Amerikába. Valahol az amerikai zónában érte a háború vége, és már nem is jött haza. Most ott kint nyugdíjas egyetemi tanár. Klári itthon maradt, nemrég halt meg, 1999-ben. 

Az apámnak volt egy bátyja is, Freikind Lajos, aki valamikor 1880 előtt kellett hogy szülessen, ha egyszer idősebb volt, mint az apám. Elvett egy Etelka nevű nőt, és született két fia: 1910-ben Dezső, 1912-ben Sándor. Lajos bácsi fuvarozással foglalkozott, és az egyik fia,  Sándor hajtotta a lovakat. Dezső, az tanult, gimnáziumba járt. A két fiú megmaradt, de az apjuk már a háború előtt meghalt, valamikor 1940 körül. Az anyjuk is. Etelka néninek hívták. A két fiú 1956-ban családostul kiment Izraelbe, és ott is haltak meg. Dezső felesége talán még él.

Édesanyámnak [Mittelmann Lenke] öt testvére volt. Vilmos, aki valamikor az 1930-as években halt meg, de csak annyit tudok róla, hogy kereskedő volt. Aztán a bátyja, Ignác, aki Nagyváradon a Félixfürdő főmérnöke volt, és aki valamikor az 1920-as években Székelyre magyarosította a nevét. A feleségét Johannának hívták, és volt egy Éva nevű lányuk, akit a kisgyerekével együtt elhurcoltak, és Auschwitzban haltak meg. A harmadik fiútestvér Márton, aki szintén Székelyre magyarosított az 1920-as években, Temesvárott élt, és textil-nagykereskedő volt. Mást nem tudok róla.

Volt még édesanyámnak két húga, Matild és Szeréna. Nem tudom, mikor születtek, de azt hiszem, olyan két-három évvel lehettek fiatalabbak anyámnál. Matild hozzáment valami boltoshoz Máramarosszigeten, onnan vitték el 1944-ben Auschwitzba. Szeréna hozzáment a temesvári Klein Nándor bútorkereskedőhöz, született egy lányuk, Éva. Őket nem hurcolták el, mert amikor Temesvárt visszacsatolták [A második bécsi döntés hatálya Észak-Erdélyre és a Székelyföldre terjedt ki. Temesvár nem került vissza Magyarországhoz. – A szerk.], ők már nem voltak ott. Valahol Romániában bujkáltak, és Romániából nagyon kevés zsidót vittek el [lásd: zsidók Észak- és Dél-Erdélyben; zsidótörvények Romániában]. A háború után visszatértek Temesvárra, aztán 1947-ben vagy 1948-ban kimentek Izraelbe. Ott Klein Nándor már nem volt önálló, hanem alkalmazott. Ott haltak meg.

Apám, Freikind Béla 1880-ban született Komádiban. Hat elemit végzett. Az első világháborúban a szerb hadszíntéren szolgált közlegényként. Kapott egy Károly csapatkeresztet a bátorságáért. Ez úgy történt, hogy támadtak, és neki nagyon erős végbélfájdalmai voltak, és emiatt nem hajolt le, hanem egyenesen ment. És emiatt tüntették ki, hogy olyan bátor volt, hogy egyenesen ment. A háború végén szerelt le.

1912-ben apám feleségül vette anyámat, Mittelmann Lenkét. Úgy ismerkedtek meg, hogy anyám nagybátyja, Bauer József vette feleségül apám húgait, és hát tulajdonképpen rokoni kapcsolat volt. 1913-ban megszületett a nővérem [Freikind Magda], aki négy polgárit végzett, és utána gépírónő volt Nagyváradon Dr. Maár Gyula ügyvédi irodájában. Közben, nem tudom hányban, férjhez ment Fuchs Jenő kereskedelmi utazóhoz, aki textilben utazott. Gyerekük nem volt, Magdát 1944-ben elhurcolták. A férje túlélte, a háború után Romániában maradt, de nem találkoztam vele. Nem tudok róla semmit. Különben is életemben kétszer vagy háromszor találkoztam vele, mert hát ők Nagyváradon voltak, mi pedig Budapesten, aztán közben volt a munkaszolgálat. Pedig Magdával nagyon szerettük egymást, de hát sajnos elszakadtunk egymástól.

A szüleim a háború előtt [az első világháború előtt] Debrecenbe költöztek, mert apám ott kapott állást egy szállítási vállalatnál. Így aztán Magda és én is Debrecenben születtünk. A háború után anyám bátyja segített nekik anyagiakkal, hazajött Komádiba, és nyitott egy kis szatócsüzletet. Aztán már mindvégig Komádiban éltek, onnan is hurcolták el őket. Komádiban két helyen is laktak. Az első lakás a falu végén volt, egy kétszoba-konyhás ház. Elöl volt az üzlet, abból nyílott az egyik szoba, onnan a konyha, aztán a másik szoba. Az egyik szoba volt nekünk, gyerekeknek, a másik a szüleinknek, és középen volt a konyha. Volt kamra, istálló, tyúkól, nagy kert, ahol az anyám burgonyát meg zöldséget termesztett, és én mint gyerek kapirgáltam körülötte. Az istállóban nem állatokat tartottunk, mert nem volt soha se lovunk, se tehenünk. Aprójószágot tartottunk, csirkét, tyúkot, libát saját fogyasztásra. Anyám még libát is tömött. Előfordult, hogy nekem kellett etetni, szórni a kukoricát, az árpát a tyúkoknak, de ez nem volt rendszeres feladat, tulajdonképpen az anyám elintézte. Eleinte még volt cseléd. Háromra is emlékszem. De aztán ahogy egyre rosszabbul ment, már nem volt senki. Akkor már mindent az anyám csinált.

A harmincas válság idején tönkrementek [lásd: az 1929-es gazdasági világválság], el kellett adni a házat, és akkor elköltöztek egy másikba, egy egyszerű szoba-konyhás házba, ami a falu közepén állt. Az anyám bátyja is adott egy kis segítséget, és nyitottak egy kis üzletet, és azzal vegetáltak. Az üzlet máshol volt, nem abban a házban, amelyikben laktak. Végül már az sem ment, és akkor az apám nyáron cséplési ellenőrnek ment, szóval dolgozgatott, vállalt mindenféle munkát. Közben a boltot az édesanyám vitte, amíg el nem vitték Auschwitzba.

Komádiban pénteken mindig hetivásár volt. Ott kipakoltak ilyen kis sátorral, és amikor már iskolás gyerek voltam, én voltam egyedül az üzletben. A szüleim kimentek a hetipiacra, és én voltam a boltos. Hat-, hét-, nyolc-, tízéves gyerekként.

A szüleim nem voltak vallásosak, de Komádi és az egész megyei környék nem volt egyáltalán vallásos. Megtartották a szombatot, nem ettek tréflit [lásd: étkezési törvények], bár ha a szomszédok hoztak egy kis kóstolót a disznótorból, anyám és én még szalonnát is ettünk. Az apám nem. Az apám minden nap imádkozott táleszben és tfilinnel, de ugyanakkor egy erősen káromkodós ember volt. Egyszer a következő jelenet volt, az életben nem fogom elfelejteni. Állt az ablaknál táleszben és tfilinben, és a következőt mondta: „Az isten bassza meg azt a rohadt kutyát, már megint kergeti a csirkéket.” De mondom, nem volt semmi különösebb ilyen vallási ceremónia. A nagyünnepeket megtartották, akkor nem nyitották ki a boltot. A széderestét is tartottuk, de nagyon egyszerűen. Csak mi voltunk, a család. Semmi különös. Az apám olvasta az imakönyvből a dolgokat, mi hallgattuk. És aztán megvacsoráztunk.

Péntek este az anyám gyertyát gyújtott és imádkozott. Utána húsleves volt. Marhahúsból is. Volt kóser marhahús, azt is a sakter vágta. A szombat azzal telt el, hogy akkor fel kellett öltözni rendesen. Templomba kellett menni. Muszáj volt. Az üzletet akkor nem nyitottuk ki [lásd: szombati munkavégzés tilalma].

A faluban volt egy zsidó templom. Rabbi nem volt, csak sakter. Rabbi az jött, azt hiszem, Berettyóújfaluról. Volt egy sakter, aki vágta a csirkét, a libát. A zsinagóga udvarában volt egy ház, ott lakott. A zsinagóga nem volt túl nagy, hát akkora, hogy befért kétszáz ember. A templom mellett volt egy mikve. De én nem tudom, hogy elment-e oda valaki. Mi nem, az biztos. Héder nem volt. Ott nem volt ilyen vallási nevelés. Volt egy osztatlan zsidó elemi iskola. Az iskolát nagyon szerettük. Nagyon jó volt a tanító. És nagyon jó tanuló voltam. Ma sem tudom, hogy az áldott emlékű Budai tanító úr hogy csinálta egy koedukált osztatlan iskolában, ahol egy tanteremben 70-80 gyerek volt elsőstől hatodikosig, de harmadik elemista korában minden valamirevaló gyerek lényegében hibátlan helyesírással írt. Az a módszere, hogy miközben egy osztállyal foglalkozott, a többinek csendes foglalkozást adott, azt is jelentette, hogy önkéntelenül is sok minden ránk ragadt a felsőbb osztályosok tananyagaiból.

Apám nagyon jóban volt a szomszédokkal, a parasztokkal. Nagyon rendes népek voltak. Például az volt a szokás a faluban, hogyha együtt voltak egy keresztelőn, akkor az mind koma lett. Nekem volt legalább harminc keresztapám meg keresztanyám. Ha én azt mondtam volna az egyik keresztanyámnak, hogy Julis néném, akkor az egy sértés lett volna. Tehát úgy kellett szólítanom, hogy keresztanyám. Apámat úgy emlegették, hogy megyek Bélához vásárolni. Egy kis szatócsbolt volt, ahol még ital is volt, lehetett kapni egy pohár pálinkát vagy egy pohár bort. És minden este odajöttek a szomszédok az üzletbe, leültek a dobkályha mellé, és beszélgettek. Ittak egy kis pálinkát, és közben az apámmal társalogtak. Öten-hatan mindig voltak. Mindig hallgattam, hogy mit beszélnek. Az első világháborúról beszéltek, hol voltak, mit csináltak. Engem nagyon érdekelt mint gyereket. Olyan családias volt az egész. Még ma is emlékszem a nevekre. Hős Lajosnak hívták az egyik szomszédot, Nagy Józsefnek a másikat, szemben a Méhesék laktak, aztán meg Szalaiék. Nem volt antiszemitizmus. Természetesnek vették, hogy ő szombaton imádkozik és megy templomba, ők meg vasárnap nem mentek.

Általában nem mentek. Szóval nem volt egy vallásos falu, kilencven százalékban református. Azért lett tíz százalék katolikus, mert volt egy káptalani birtok a falu mellett, és oda hoztak katolikusokat dolgozni. Az volt a szokás a faluban, hogy vasárnap délelőtt az asszonyok  a gyerekkel mentek a templomba. A Fő téren volt a templom, és ott volt a kocsma is, addig a férfiak beültek a kocsmába, iszogattak, és amikor vége volt az istentiszteletnek, együtt mentek haza ebédelni.

Egyszer jött egy fiatal református pap, akinek a prédikációja miatt elmentek a férfiak is a templomba. Az egyik leghíresebb prédikációja a következő volt: „Kedves Híveim! Mielőtt felolvasnám Máté Evangéliuma stb., stb. szakaszát, elmondom nektek az álmomat. Azt álmodtam, hogy meghaltam. Szent Péter elé kerültem, aki azt mondta, várni kell, az Úr el van foglalva. Már jó ideje üldögéltem, amikor meghallottam az Úr szavát: pásztor, hol vagy? Mire én: Uram, nem vagyok én pásztor, csak egy kondás, nincsenek nekem juhaim, csak disznaim és azok ti vagytok, kedves híveim!” Ezután elmentek a férfiak is a templomba.

Aztán hoztak oda egy fiatal katolikus papot, azzal meg az történt, hogy könyökölt az ablakban, és látta, hogy egy kislány kötélen húzogat egy kecskét. A kecske nem akart menni. „Hova viszed azt a kecskét?” „Hát a bakhó viszem”. „Ejnye, hát nincs neked bátyád?” „Van, de az nem baszik kecskét.” Szóval ilyen dolgok voltak ott abban a faluban. Egyébként jóízűeket verekedtünk. Volt az alvég meg a felvég. A felvégen laktak a gazdagabbak, az alvégen a szegényebbek. Ha az utcán találkozott egy alvégi egy felvégivel, ugye keskeny járda volt kőből, akkor: „Térj ki, paraszt, az úr elől!” – mondtuk egymásnak. És ha nem tért ki, akkor jött egy kis verekedés. A zsidó gyerekek közül volt, amelyik az urakhoz számított, volt, amelyik a parasztokhoz. A felvégen és az alvégen is vegyesen laktak. Mi például az alvégen laktunk, nem voltunk valami jómódúak, gyenge üzlet volt, éppen hogy megéltünk.

Nyáron mezítláb járkáltunk egy kis nadrágban. Bár az anyám mindig mondta, hogy szandálban menjek, nehogy elvágjam a lábam, de ahogy kimentem a kerítésen, behajítottam a szandált. Emlékszem, nyár volt, kánikula, és hazamentem nyakig sárosan. Az anyám kérdezte: „Az isten áldjon meg, hát hol van most sár?” „Van, csak keresni kell.” Volt egy nagy gödör a falu szélén, ilyen pocsolya, és abban. Sokat másztunk fára. És volt a barátom, a Fisch Jóska, szegény, azt is elvitték, és nem került haza, annak a bátyja szabó volt. Hát, hogy ő is szabó lesz. Egy fára mászás közben elszakadt a nadrágom. „Sebaj”, mondta, „dütsd ki a feneked, majd megvarrom.” Az édesanyám azt a rendet vezette be, hogy este a konyhában körül kellett fordulnom, hogy lássa, mit műveltem napközben a ruházatommal. Semmi nem látszott, még gondoltam is magamban, ez a Jóska tényleg szabónak való. A lefekvésnél azonban némi problémák akadtak, a nadrág sehogy sem akart lejönni, hiába izegtem-mozogtam. Kiderült, hogy Jóska hozzávarrta az ingemet gatyával együtt a nadrághoz. Ollóval lehetett csak megszabadítani a nadrágomtól. Csak azért nem kaptam ki, mert anyám halálra nevette magát.

A faluban nem volt polgári [lásd: polgári iskola], így csak magánúton lehetett elvégezni. Mivel ez költséges volt, meg kellett várnom, amíg a nővérem elvégzi, így aztán hat elemit végeztem négy helyett [Polgári iskolába a négy elemi elvégzése után lehetett menni. – A szerk.]. Majd, hogy valamit behozzak, az első két polgárit magánúton letettem két nap alatt. Sarkadra kellett menni vizsgázni, egyik nap az elsőből vizsgáztam, másnap letettem a második osztály vizsgáját. Akkorra a nővérem már végzett, dolgozott, és segítette a szüleimet, így a harmadikat Debrecenben jártam a Kereskedő Társulat Polgári Iskolájában. Akkor egy évig anyám unokatestvérénél laktam.

A debreceni polgáriból a legemlékezetesebbek az énekórák voltak. Csörsz tanár úrnak sajátos módszerei voltak. Kottázva felírt egy dalt a táblára, és azt szolmizálva, az ütemet kézzel jelezve kellett volna elénekelni [Föltehetően nem az ütemet kellett kézzel jelezniük, hanem a szolmizációs jeleket kellett volna szolmizáció közben mutatniuk. – A szerk.]. Erre az egész osztályból csak a debreceni Kiss Béla cigányprímás fia volt képes. Ezért aztán a „feleltetés” úgy zajlott le, hogy a harmincas létszámú osztály ötösével felsorakozott. Az első órákon még megpróbálkoztunk némi nyivákolással, de a reménytelen próbálkozást hamarosan abbahagytuk. Egymásra néztünk, és mintegy vezényszóra lehajoltunk. A tanár úr végigvert bennünket a nádpálcával. Lefeleltünk. A későbbiekben védekezésül különböző ruhadarabok nadrágunkba tömésével készültünk az énekórára. Így talán érthető, hogy több mint ötven esztendő után is el tudom sorolni az első csoport névsorát: A. Balogh, B. Balogh, Balogh Lajos, Barcza, Bodonyi, Farkas és jómagam. Egyébként kiváló tanuló voltam, de énekből félévkor megbuktam huszonnyolc társammal együtt. Év végén sem tudtunk többet, de mivel az ének melléktantárgy volt, abból nem lehetett megbukni. Negyedikben megint magántanuló lettem.

A polgári elvégzése után a Felső Ipariskolába [Magyar Királyi Állami Felső Ipariskola, Budapest, VIII. Népszínház utca 8.] akartam menni, mivel gépészmérnök szerettem volna lenni. Méghozzá úgy, hogy először a hároméves felső ipariskolát végzem el [lásd: ipariskolák], és utána megyek a Műegyetemre. Az ipariskolához egy év műhelygyakorlat kellett. Ezt becsülettel el is végeztem ott, Komádiban egy olyan mesternél, ahol az épületlakatosságtól az esztergáláson, kovácsoláson keresztül a cséplőgép kezeléséig minden előfordult. Amikor letelt az év, a mester azt mondta, maradjak ott, és egy fél év múlva felszabadít.

Mivel protekcióm nem volt, a Felső Ipariskolába zsidóként nem vettek fel. Így aztán az elemi iskolai tanítóm tanácsára a zsidó tanítóképzőbe [Országos Izraelita Tanítóképző, Budapest, VIII. Rökk Szilárd u 26.] iratkoztam be. Itt nem kellett tandíjat fizetni, sőt internátus [diákotthon] is volt teljes ellátással. Igen szerény társaság gyűlt egybe az ország minden részéből. Pénzt csak úgy tudtunk szerezni, ha sikerült tanítványt szerezni.

A zsidó tanítóképzőben az volt a problémám, hogy a falu, ahol éltem, nem volt olyan nagyon vallásos. Úgyhogy én nem voltam olyan tapasztalt, nem jesiva-gyerek voltam. Emiatt a Lichmann tanár úr, aki a hébert tanította, amikor ilyen vallási dolgokra került sor, látta, hogy  nem nagyon tudom, és akkor azt mondta, hogy írja meg az apjának, hogy okos ember. Erre mondtam, hogy én tudom, miért írjam meg. Azért, kérem, mert egy embernek van három fia. Van egy nagyon okos, jó tanuló, azt adja gimnáziumba. Van egy, aki nem akar tanulni, azt adja iparosnak. És van egy hülye gyereke, azt beadja a tanítóképzőbe. De aztán később kiderült, hogy egyáltalán nem vagyok hülye. Egyszer kihívott felelni, megnézte a jegyzetemet, és látta, hogy egész jó. Közben az is kiderült, hogy kitanultam a lakatos szakmát, ezért megkértek, hogy menjek el a lakásra, és javítsam meg ezt meg azt. Ez jó volt, mert egyrészt „hivatalosan” lógtam az órákról, másrészt jó uzsonnát kaptam és néha egy-két pengő honoráriumot is. Egyszer egy karnist kellett feltennem. Amikor feltettem, láttam, hogy kissé ferde, az egyik kampós szöget egy-két centiméterrel feljebb gipszeltem be, de úgy gondoltam, nem veszik észre. Bejött a tanár felesége, nézte-nézte a karnist, majd megszólalt: „Nem gondolja, hogy kissé ferdén van feltéve?” – „Óh, nem – igyekeztem menteni a menthetőt –, egyenesen van az feltéve, csak ahogy a fény vetődik az ablakon, az árnyékok miatt úgy látszik, minta ferde lenne.” Kicsit gondolkozott, majd  így szólt: „Tudja mit, nem bánom, legyen ferdén feltéve, de nézzen úgy ki, mintha egyenes lenne.” Ennek nem tudtam ellenállni, és kijavítottam a hibát.

Öt éves volt a tanítóképző, 1932-ben kezdtem, és 1937-ben végeztem. A humán és a természettudományi tárgyak mellett igen erős volt a rajz és kézimunka, a zeneoktatás és a testnevelés is. Minden tanulónak meg kellett tanulnia vagy hegedülni, vagy zongorázni. Én a hegedűt választottam, mivel kevés kilátásom volt arra, hogy valaha is zongorával rendelkezzem.

A tanítóképző nagyon jó iskola volt, hagyta művelődni az embert. Nem tömtek tele sok felesleges dologgal. Például az irodalomtanárunk, Harmos tanár úr az előírt dolgokon gyorsan átsiklott, ugyanakkor szavalt nekünk Adyt, József Attilát, ismeretlen költő verse alapon. Úgyhogy nagyon élveztük az irodalomórákat, sokat tanultunk. Széles körű ismereteket szereztünk a világirodalomból is. Színházba úgy jártunk a „kakasülőre”, hogy télen kabát nélkül rohantunk végig az utcán, mert már ruhatárra nem futotta. Különben is, ha volt 20 fillérünk, abból jól be lehetett vacsorázni. Fél kiló meleg májas-véres hurka 8 fillér volt, negyed kiló kenyér 6 fillér, még maradt savanyúságra is. Igen olcsó és jó volt az absnicli [a meleg húsok mérésénél lemaradó darabkák].

Az iskola egész szelleme az akkori viszonyokat tekintve liberális volt, a tanárok általában túltették magukat a tantervek és tankönyvek merev, sokszor vaskalapos keretein, igyekeztek értelmesen tanítani, s így meglehetősen nyitottakká váltunk a különböző eszmék befogadására. Törvényszerű volt, hogy az érdeklődőbbek eljutottak a marxizmusig. Különböző utakon irodalomra is szert tettünk, olyanokra is, amelyek tiltottak voltak. Kisebb baráti körök alakultak, amelyeknek a beszélgetései hasonlítottak a jóval később megismert szemináriumokhoz.

Tapasztalatokat persze nem csak az irodalomból szereztem. Nyaranként otthon a Szegedi Kenderfonó helyi kendergyárában dolgoztam mázsálóként, hogy megkeressem a ruhára valót meg a szüleim téli tüzelőjét, a pozdorját [A pozdorja a tilolt kender kórójának hulladéka. – A szerk.]. Közben megismertem a gyár munkásainak a helyzetét. Amikor hajnalban a gyárba kerekeztem, láttam a Sebes-Körös hídfőjénél az embervásárt, ahol százak gyülekeztek az uradalmakhoz munkára, de csak egy-két tucat ember volt olyan szerencsés, hogy látástól vakulásig végzett munkáért napszámként kb. egy kiló szalonna árát megkeresse. Ennek egy részét saját maga megette, hogy egyáltalán bírja a nehéz munkát, így a családnak még száraz kenyérre való is alig maradt, nemhogy a „zsírozóra” jutott volna. Az alvégen lakó sok család közül számos volt olyan, hogy nem is tudta az ember, hogy miből élnek egyáltalán. Mindez egy nyiladozó értelmű fiatalemberben kételyeket támasztott a fennálló társadalmi rend tökéletességét illetően. Így aztán eljutottam a Szociáldemokrata Párthoz 1937-ben.

A tanítóképzőben több diáknak volt kapcsolata nemcsak a szocdem párttal, hanem a kommunista párttal is. Meg azzal a harcias, hogy hívták, az a zsidó cionista csoport, somér vagy mi [lásd: Hasomér Hacair Magyarországon]. Úgyhogy a tanítóképzőben sokat beszélgettünk politikai dolgokról. Kialakult egy kör, és beszélgettünk. És akkor elkezdtem olvasni. Megkaptam a Lenin 10-diknek a magyar fordítását. Ma is megvan a Lenin 10-dik kötet. Érdekelt a dolog, de a kommunistát túlzásnak tartottam, túl élesnek, és akkor a szocdem pártba jelentkeztem. A szocdem párthoz egyébként volt bizonyos családi kapcsolat, mert a feleségem egy rokona, az apósom unokatestvére szocdem képviselő volt. Szóval beléptem oda, és akkor ilyen tanfolyamot csináltak, ilyen politikai tanfolyamot, és arra jártam. Meg kiküldtek üzemekbe beszélgetni munkásokkal. De ugyanakkor azt láttam, hogy a szocdem párt nagyon megalkuvó volt a Horthy-rendszerrel szemben, úgyhogy nem nagyon tetszett, de hát ez volt az egyetlen legális baloldali párt.

Nyaranként a munka mellett néhány hétig nyaraltam is a Nagyvárad melletti Félixfürdőben [A Nagyvárad melletti Váradszentmártonhoz tartozó fürdő legnagyobb nevezetessége az artézi kút, Európa leggazdagabb hévízforrása, amely naponta több mint 17 milló liter, 49 C fokú gyógyvizet adott. A fürdő a jászóvári premontrei rend tulajdona volt, 70 holdas erdő övezte. A trianoni békeszerződéssel Romániához került. – A szerk.], amelynek a nagybátyám volt az igazgató-főmérnöke. Ez többszörösen is kellemes volt. Egyrészt maga a nyaralás, másrészt az ottani fiatalok tanítgattak a román nyelvre, harmadsorban – de nem utoljára – a gyógyfürdőben sok olyan fiatalasszonyt kúráltak, akiknek nem volt gyereke, és szerettek volna. A fürdő gyógyvize állítólag hatásos volt. Lehet, de valószínűleg szerepe volt ebben annak a sok fiatalembernek is, akik szórakoztatták az unatkozó fiatalasszonyokat. Mindenesetre a következő évben több fürdőző asszonynál megjött a várva várt gyermekáldás. Lehetséges, hogy hasonló helyzet volt, mint ami a többször említett Kohnnal történt. Elment a rabbihoz, hogy segítsen, mivel baj van a házaséletével. Röviden szólva, nem nagyon tud eleget tenni férji kötelességének. Gyere, mondta a rabbi, majd imádkozunk, és az Isten megsegít. Megtörtént, és Kohn biztos akarván lenni a dolgában, megkérdezte, hogy valóban segít-e az ima. „Látom, hitetlenkedsz, na menj be ebbe az elsötétített szobába.” Majd a templomszolgát elküldte Kohnnéért. Beküldte a szobába, és várta a fejleményeket. Egy jó óra elteltével jön ki a Kohn igen peckesen. „Na látod, te hitetlen, ugye segített az ima?” „Lehet”, mondja Kohn, „de meg kell mondanom neked, hogy ez a bádogos Kohn felesége volt, én pedig a fűszeres Kohn vagyok”.

A tanítói oklevéllel nem sokra tudtam menni, állás legfeljebb távoli kis falvakban akadt volna.  Itt maradtam Budapesten, és a Népszínház utca 27-ben egy szobát béreltem egy barátommal, azzal a Fried Palival, aki aztán még a háború kitörése előtt Amerikába ment. Ma is New Yorkban él, igen jó körülmények között. Beiratkoztam a hároméves KERAK-ra [lásd: Kereskedelmi Akadémia], 1940-ben elvégeztem, és közgazdász lettem. Nappali tagozatra jártam, és abból éltem, hogy sok tanítványom volt. Az Akadémián kicsi volt a tandíjam, száz vagy kétszáz pengő évente. De hát én már tizenöt éves koromtól magam tartottam el magamat. Az utolsó évben leendő apósom tanácsára és segítségével utazó (vigéc) lettem a nőikalap-kellék szakmában. Mondanom sem kell, hogy semmit sem értettem hozzá, addig csak a nők fején láttam kalapot. A cégtől kaptam egy másodosztályú vasúti bérletet, s jutalékot az elért forgalom után. Nem minden utazó volt ilyen szegényesen elengedve. A nagyobb cégek, gyárak vagy „diétát” [napidíj] adtak, és a szállodaszámlát fizették, vagy az élelmezési kiadásokról és a szállodai, helyi közlekedési költségekről kapott számlákat fizették. A vevőköröm a vidéki városok kalaposnőiből került ki. A konkurens cégek utazói látszólag bevettek a brancsba, de mindig megkérdezték, hová megyek a következő héten. Kicsit furcsának találtam először, hogy mindig előttem egy nappal járt ott valamelyik. Már-már kezdtem azt hinni, hogy olyan peches vagyok, mint Béni bácsi volt. Hamarosan azonban rájöttem, hogy mindig mást kell mondani, mint ahová tényleg megyek.

A szakmai ismereteket úgy lestem el a vevőktől. Lassanként meg tudtam különböztetni a nyúlszőr tompot a filctomptól [Tomp – domborúra formált nemez vagy más anyag, amelyből a kalapot készítik. – A szerk.], tudtam melyik a ripszszalag, a különböző fátylak, kalapdíszek is ismerősekké váltak. Körülbelül egy fél év múlva már biztosan mozogtam a szakmában, amit végül a cég főnökének is el kellett fogadni. Történt egyszer, hogy hét végén az összegyűjtött rendelések leadásakor ott találtam nála az osztrák tompgyár képviselőjét a kollekciójával. Megjegyeztem az egyik árura, hogy ez nem kell nekünk, ezt nem tudom eladni. Mire a főnök, mit ért maga ehhez, maga pedagógus. Erre fogadást ajánlottam neki, hogy rakjon ki a pultra különféle – osztrák, olasz, cseh, magyar – kalaptomponokat, és én bekötött szemmel, tapintás után megmondom, melyik milyen. Jót nevetett, de az osztrák utazó unszolására ráállt a dologra. Én biztosra mentem, mert addigra már tudtam, hogyan különböznek a tompok egymástól nagyságban, vastagságban, fogásra, és a szélük levágása is jellegzetes. Így aztán nyertem a főnöktől száz pengőt, de ami fontosabb volt, soha többé nem gúnyolódott velem.

Az utazók között nagyon érdekes emberek voltak, sokat lehetett tanulni tőlük a kereskedelemről. A Zwack-gyár [Az 1840-ben alapított likőrgyárról, a Zwack Unicum Rt.-ről van szó. – A szerk.] öreg utazója kiemelkedett közülük, egész legenda vette körül, csínyjei, bemondásai szinte szállóigékké váltak. Mindenki ismerte a szakmában. Történt egyszer, hogy a vonaton összetalálkozott egy fiatal kollégával, a Braun cég utazójával. Kiderült, hogy egy városba utaztak, ami elkeserítette a fiatal kollégát, mert az öreg mellett nem sok esélye maradt üzletkötésre. Az öreg, látva elkeseredését, nagylelkűen azt javasolta, osszák fel a vendéglősöket egymás között, így nem zavarják egymást. Ezek után az öreg első dolga volt, hogy bement az egyik, a fiatalnak kiosztott kocsmároshoz, akikről tudta, hogy egy harmadik cégtől vásárol, és arra kérte, ha jön a fiatal kolléga, mondja azt, hogy tőle már rendelt. Valami vicc? – kérdezte a kocsmáros. Nem, hanem fogadtunk, hogy ma maga tőlem rendel. Jó, mondta a kocsmáros, segítek, hogy megnyerje a fogadást. Délután a vonaton a fiatal feldúltan kereste az öreget. „Szép kis alak vagy, te javasoltad a felosztást, és te szegted meg. Ne is tagadd, a kocsmáros még fel is sorolta, milyen rendelést adott fel neked.” „Igazán, és mit mondott?” Erre a fiatal olyan nagy rendelést sorolt fel, amely meghaladta a kocsma egy egész évi szükségletét. Közben az öreg szorgalmasan jegyzett. A gyárban leadta a rendelést. A leszállításkor a kocsmáros tiltakozott, pör lett belőle. A kocsmáros elvesztette a pert, mert az öregnek tanúja is volt. Hiába igyekezett a kocsmáros védekezni, hogy ő csak viccelt, az üzlet az nem volt vicc ebben az időben.

A konkurenciaharc sokszor nem valami etikus módszerekkel folyt. Történt például, hogy Kohn  bácsi fűszer-csemege üzlete közelében egy új üzlet nyílt. Kohn bácsi másnap kitett egy táblát, hogy az addigi 1,20 pengős banán ára 1,10 pengő. A konkurencia erre 1 pengőért kínálta. Majd 90, 80, és végül Kohn bácsi 70 fillérért írta ki. Erre már átjött a versenytárs. „Hát jó, versenyzünk, de hogy adhatja 70 fillérért a banánt, amikor nekünk 80 fillérben van?” „Hát árulok én banánt?”, kérdezte Kohn bácsi.

Az utazók között azonban nemcsak vicces emberek voltak, hanem olyanok is, akik politikailag is tisztán láttak, s akikkel a KAOSZ-ban [Kereskedelmi Alkalmazottak Országos Szövetsége] hamarosan megtaláltuk egymást. Ennek tagjaként dolgoztam, és egyúttal itt működött a Szociáldemokrata Párt egyik alapszervezete, s itt lehetett pártmunkát is végezni. Alighogy elvégeztem a KERAK-ot, behívtak katonának. Bevonultam a Gépkocsizó Tanosztályhoz a Zách utcába – azért ide, mert közben gépkocsi-vezetői jogosítványt szereztem. Iskolai végzettségem révén karpaszományos [lásd: tartalékos tiszt] voltam. A parancsnok, Zentay Iván ezredes, más néven Rettenetes Iván volt. A melléknevét a katonás magatartás kíméletlen megkövetelése miatt érdemelte ki. Majd 180 cm magas volt, feltehetően agglegény, mert éjjel-nappal feltűnt a laktanyában.

Az élelmezés kifogástalan volt. Nem hiszem, hogy a Horthy-hadsereg bármely egységénél csak megközelítően is olyan jó lett volna. Ennek az volt az oka, hogy az ezredes dél körül megjelent a konyhában, és megkóstolta az ebédet. Ha nem ízlett neki, a szakácsok fejét a kondérok széléhez verte. Az is előfordult, hogy kiöntette az ételt, és a szakácsot a kincstári vagyon pazarlásáért katonai bíróság elé állította. Így aztán a szakácsok nem loptak, sőt azt hiszem, még inkább otthonról is hoztak hozzávalókat.

Nem sokkal a bevonulásom után megjelent a rendelet, hogy a nürnbergi törvényeknek nem megfelelőknek külön erre a célra szervezett munkaszolgálatos egységekben kell letölteniük a katonai szolgálatukat. A már katonai szolgálatukat teljesítőket a honvédség alakulataitól át kellett helyezni munkaszolgálatos alakulatokhoz. A munkaszolgálatos zászlóaljak tisztikarát, tiszteseit és legénységi állományú katonáit a honvédségtől kell vezényelni. Ez volt az a bizonyos „keret”, ebből kerültek ki később a hírhedt „keretlegények”. A munkaszolgálatosok közül azok, akik a katonaságtól kerültek át, egyenruhájukban folytatták szolgálatukat mint munkaszolgálatosak, csak a fegyvernemi jelzést, nálam például a gépkocsizók barna paroliját kellett eltávolítani. A közvetlenül oda behívottak főleg a Felvidéken zsákmányolt csehszlovák egyenruhákba öltöztek, magyar katonasapkával. Így aztán mivel először erről elfelejtkeztek intézkedni, én karpaszományos munkaszolgálatosként folytattam. Később rájöttek a helyzet „tarthatatlanságára”, mivel a Szolgálati Szabályzat szerint a rendfokozat nélküli honvéd a karpaszományossal szemben tiszteletadásra volt kötelezve. Így aztán le kellett operálni a karpaszományt. Majd továbbfejlődtek a dolgok, és megszületett a sárga karszalag, később pedig a „nem zsidó vallású zsidók” számára a fehér karszalag.

1941 tavaszán a Magyar Királyi Vasút és Hidász Szertárban dolgozott a századunk, majd  a szakaszunkat időlegesen a Hajógyári szigetre vezényelték, ahol a komáromi hidászoknak segítettünk hajóhídrészek összeállításában, mivel bekövetkezett a Jugoszlávia elleni támadás.

Ezután a Műszaki Katonai Akadémiára vezényeltek bennünket, ahol egész nyáron egy uszodát építgettünk. Én ebben eleinte nem vettem részt, mert az Akadémia öreg alhadnagya megkérdezte, tud-e valaki kaszálni. A csupa pesti srác között csak én rendelkeztem ilyen tudással. A főépület előtt egy futballpálya volt, amely egyúttal az avatások színhelyéül is szolgált, ezt kellett lekaszálni. Ezt én úgy oldottam meg, hogy kora reggel egy kicsit kaszálgattam, majd a bokrok közé húzódtam kaszafenés, kalapálás ürügyén, s jókat aludtam. Már vagy három hete kaszálgattam, és körülbelül a terület feléig jutottam el, amikor jóízű szundikálásomból egy hang riasztott fel: „Maga mit csinál ott, kérem?” Felugrottam és egy vezérkari ezredest láttam magam előtt (a tanárok csupa vezérkari tisztek voltak). „Alázatosan jelentem, kaszálok.” „Nahát!”, mondta az ezredes, és sietve távozott. Tíz perc múlva megjelent az alhadnagy, s jól letolt, hogy miért az út mellé feküdtem aludni, és megparancsolta, hogy három nap alatt fejezzem be a kaszálást.

1941 őszén Erdélybe irányították a századunkat a Szeretfalva–Déda vasútvonal építésére. A körlet először Alsórépán, majd Maroskövesden volt. Mindkét falu tiszta román lakosságú volt, így hasznát vehettem gyengécske román nyelvtudásomnak Abból, hogy katonaként kerültem át munkaszolgálatba, és ismertem a katonai dolgokat, tudtam szolgálati jegyet írni, tényvázlatot felvenni, menetlevelet kiállítani,  előnyöm származott, én lettem a századírnok.

Szerencsére elég jó parancsnokaim voltak. Először egy hadnagy volt a parancsnokunk, aki nagyon szerette a bort és a nőket. Szombatonként beutazott Marosvásárhelyre, ahol magas színvonalú nyilvánosház működött „Paradicsom” néven. Általában szombat reggelenként eltűnt, meghagyva, hogy vigyázzunk mindenre, és hétfőn dél körül került elő. A keret egyik tagja, egy szakaszvezető többször morgott, hogy nem lesz ez így jó, aztán egyszer ő is eltűnt, és hétfőn reggel autóval tért vissza, egy századossal a kolozsvári hadtestparancsnokságról. Mint kiderült, feljelentette a hadnagyot. Jelentkeztem a századosnál, akinek az volt az első kérdése, hogy hol van a századparancsnok? Kinn van a három kilométerre lévő munkahelyen a századdal – feleltem. Mikor vonulnak be? Úgy két óra körül. – Na, akkor megvárjuk. Láttam, hogy baj lesz, itt gyorsan kell cselekedni. Alkalmas időben kimentem az irodából, megkerestem a motoros küldöncünket, és meghagytam neki, menjen a szomszéd falu vasútállomására, ahová 11 óra körül kell megérkeznie a hadnagynak. Mondja meg neki, baj van, egyenesen menjen a munkahelyre, és a századdal együtt jöjjön be a faluba. Végre kettő körül hangos nótaszóval bevonult a század, élén a hadnaggyal. A százados elképedve nézett a szakaszvezetőre. Bejött a hadnagy, bemutatkozott, majd bennünket kiküldtek. Hamarosan bort kellett hozni, és úgy öt óra felé beraktuk az autójába a századost. Ezután a hadnagy behívatta a szakaszvezetőt, megpofozta, és azonnal menetlevelet íratott részére, és visszaküldte a pótkeret-parancsnokságra. Nekem pedig adott két hét szabadságot.

Az utolsó parancsnok egy erdélyi kurtanemes főhadnagy volt, Szentgelicei Szabó Kálmánnak hívták, aki egyáltalán nem volt antiszemita. Miután elvégeztük a munkát, amit kiadtak, békén hagyta az embereket. Amikor odakerült, megkérdezte tőlem mint írnoktól, hogy mi itt a helyzet. Miután nem ismertem őt, nem nagyon mertem beszélni. Aztán kérdezte, hogy milyen a koszt, elegendő-e. „Főhadnagy úr, én nem mondok semmit, tessék odamenni 11 órakor a konyhára, és leméretni a húst.” Mert én tudtam, hogy a géhás szakaszvezető tíz kilóval kevesebbet vesz át, a többit a zsebbe kapja. Elment, lemérte, és jött vissza, hogy „Na, most már mondj el mindent!”. Erre mondtam, hogy ebben és ebben a házban van a szakaszvezető raktára, ott tartja az ellopott lisztet, rumot, mindent. Erre felnyittatta, és attól kezdve egy vagy két hétig rumos feketekávét reggeliztünk, a lisztből fehér kenyeret süttetett. Szóval nagyon rendes volt. Mondta, hogy elküldi ezt a szakaszvezetőt. Mondtam, ne küldje el, ez már nem mer lopni,  jön egy másik, az még jobban fog lopni. Aztán elhelyezték, és akkor mondta, hogy kér valakit. Mondtam, ne kérjen senkit, az egyik gyerek, az egyik munkaszolgálatos ellátja a géhás dolgokat. És Lantos Gyuri lett a géhás.

Egyszer jön a Lantos, mondja, te, baj van, hiányzik öt vagy hat lepedő. Engem le fognak csukni. Mert akkor lepedő, takaró, minden kincstári volt. A lepedőket Kolozsvárra kellett bevinni, ott adtak tisztát. Nem nekünk kellett mosni, hanem a katonaság intézte. Összehajtogatva kellett leadni, és az átvevő a sarkánál számolta meg. Azt mondtam Lantosnak, hogy „Szakíts szét vagy négy lepedőt, és úgy hajtsd össze, hogy a sarkuk stimmeljen.” Így aztán megúsztuk.

Szabadságot nem volt szabad adni. Erre azt mondta a főhadnagy: „Idefigyelj, én nem adhatok szabadságot. Nálad vannak az okmányok, a papírok, nálad van a pecsét, jobban írod alá a nevemet, mint én.”  Tudniillik többször alá kellett írni helyette, mert a szomszéd tanítónőnél töltötte az időt, de én mindig megmondtam neki, hogy helyette aláírtam. Így aztán mindig szabadságoltam hét-nyolc embert. Azt mondta, hogy „Csináld, de ha lebuknak, én nem tudok semmiről”.

A mellettünk lévő faluban volt egy másik század, annak egy börtönigazgató volt a parancsnoka. Rettenetesen bánt az emberekkel. Az írnokával tartottam a kapcsolatot, jóban voltunk, és az szólt, hogy a parancsnoka feljelentette a miénket, hogy illegálisan szabadságolja az embereket. „Vigyázzatok, jön az ellenőrzés!” Mondtam a főhadnagynak, az nem volt se holt, se eleven. „Mennyien vannak szabadságon?”, kérdezte. Mondtam, hogy tízen. Hát most mi lesz?  „Ne tessék semmin se csodálkozni, minden el lesz intézve.” Két nap múlva jön egy távmondat, hogy a század ne vonuljon ki munkára, ellenőrzés lesz. Elmentem a bíróhoz, aki román volt, és cujkaiszogatás közben mondtam neki, hogy szükségem volna tíz fiúra egy napra. Hát minek? Mondtam. Jaj, nem, hát akkor bent maradnak. Én garantálom, hogy nem lesz semmi bajuk. Hazakerülnek, és fejenként egy liter cujkát kapnak, maga meg két litert. Szerintem nem az én ígéretem, hanem a cujka döntött [Cujka – kizárólag szilvából főzött román pálinkaféle, általában egyszeri főzéssel készül, szemben a szilvapálinkával, amelyet kétszer párolnak le. – A szerk.]. Adott tíz fiatalembert. Ezeket bevittem a raktárba, felöltöztettem, és betanítottam őket. Adtam egy cédulát, hogy te vagy Krausz, te meg Schwartz, és ha hallod a neved, akkor ordítani kell, hogy „Parancs”. Egész délután erre tanítottam őket. Ezt a főhadnagy mind nem tudta. Másnap reggel megjelent három tiszt. Sorakozó! Mennyi a létszám? 117. Írnok, olvassa föl a névsort! Felolvastam. Mindenki ott van. Erre az egyik tiszt megy, és leszámolja. Megvan a 117. Néznek egymásra, de az én főhadnagyom is csak nézett, az se értett semmit. Oszolj után mondtam a románoknak, hogy menjenek be a raktárba, maradjanak ott, amíg nem jövök. A főhadnagy bort hozatott, ivászat, minden. Két óra múlva beraktuk a tiszteket a kocsiba, és elmentek. Akkor azt mondja a főhadnagy, „Most mondd meg, mit csináltál?” Bevittem a raktárba. „Kik ezek?” Mondom, ezek bér-munkaszolgálatosok. De ez 12 liter cujka. Fizetem, mondta. Attól kezdve ez a tíz gyerek hetekig azzal szórakozott, hogy egymást Krausznak meg Schwartznak nevezte. Én tudtam, hogy nem fognak feljelenteni. A románok legalább annyira utálták a magyar közigazgatást. Szóval ilyen dolgaim voltak. A másik: csomagot nem lehetett kapni. Erre a szomszéd falu postamesterét lekenyereztem. Oda címezték a csomagot. Lett csomag is.

Az a tél rendkívül hideg volt Erdélyben, bármennyire fűtöttünk, a szimplaablakos szobában az edényekben éjjel befagyott a víz. A vasúti töltést fagyott rögökből is tovább kellett építeni, ami azzal járt, hogy a töltés tavaszra összetöppedt. Egyébként is a németek által az olajszállítások érdekében követelt vasútépítés a nyomkijelölés hibás volta miatt, azt hiszem, sohasem fejeződött be. Az biztos, hogy mi félbehagytuk, mert átvezényeltek bennünket Gyergyótölgyesre betonerődítések építésére a Tölgyesi-szoros védelmére. A falu úgy feküdt, hogy a néhány száz méter magas hegy másik oldalán már Románia volt. Erős kétségeink voltak a betonerődítményeket illetően, mivel lőrésük csak kifelé, a szorosba nézett. Ugyanis, ha este azt mondtuk Juonnak, a házigazdánknak, hogy elfogyott a cigarettánk, cukrunk sincs, akkor általában azt válaszolta, jó, jó mindjárt megyek. Úgy körülbelül három óra alatt megjárta az utat, miközben a hegyivadászok állandóan őrjáratoztak. Amint a háború után megtudtam, azokból a géppuskafészkekből egy golyót sem lőttek ki, az oroszok hátulról kerülték meg az egészet, nyilván azokon az ösvényeken, amelyeket Juon használt.

1942 nyarán kerültem vissza Pestre, mert jött a parancs, hogy a zászlóaljat fel kell számolni, három menetszázadot kell belőle kialakítani, és irány Ukrajna. A szervezési feladatokkal a mi főhadnagyunkat bízták meg. A parancs szerint az első két század önálló egységként vonul ki, a harmadik század pedig feltöltésül fog szolgálni. A főhadnagy nagyon rendes volt, és felajánlotta, hogy menjek ki az első vagy második századdal mint írnok, ez mégiscsak biztonságosabb lesz, mint aknát szedni. Én megköszöntem a jóindulatát, de azt mondtam, hogy önként nem megyek a frontra, még akkor sem, ha az a század, melyben írnok lehetek, 11 órakor indul, és az, amelyikben isten tudja, mi lesz a helyzetem, 12 órakor, mert hátha 11 és 12 között történik valami. Hát történt.

A parancs szerint a kivonulóknak le kellett adni a kincstári felszerelést, a frontra a munkaszolgálatosoknak saját ruhájukban, felszerelésükben kellett kimenni. A sok költözködés, lopás stb. miatt a raktári kimutatások szerint jelentős hiány volt jóformán minden felszerelési tárgyból, takarókból, lepedőkből, bakancsokból, derékszíjakból stb. A fennálló szabályzat szerint a századparancsnokok anyagilag felelősek voltak a felszerelésért. Még folyt a menetszázadok szervezése, amikor megjelent a főhadnagynál a felszámolandó zászlóalj másik két századának a parancsnoka, és kétségbeesve vetették fel, hogy életük végéig fizethetik a hiányokat. Én engedélyt kértem a szólásra, amit nem akartak a többiek megadni, de a főhadnagyom azt mondta, hallgassuk csak meg. Én előadtam a javaslatomat a hiány „megszüntetésére”. Ez valójában nagyon egyszerű hamisítás volt. Olyan jegyzőkönyvek szerkesztése, amelyben a hadműveleti területre elvonulók nevére egy-egy hiányzó felszerelési tárgy felvétele szerepelt. Abból indultam ki, hogy a háború után az élve maradóktól senki sem fogja követelni a derékszíj stb. árát. Azt kértem, ha elfogadják a javaslatomat, akkor eszközöljenek ki olyan parancsot, hogy a feloszlatott zászlóalj felszerelésének leadásához szükséges a századírnokoknak és a raktárosoknak a menetszázadokból való kivétele. Ez megtörtént, és a menetszázadok elvonulása után hatan itt maradtunk a pótkeret-parancsnoksághoz vezényelve.
Közbevetőleg el kell mondanom egy tragikomikus esetet. Az első menetszázad elindulása után megállapítottam, hogy a parancsban előírt létszámnál egy fővel többet visznek. A főhadnagy azt mondta, sajnálja, de már késő. Én erősködtem, hogy vissza lehet hozni egy embert, mert reggel lesz a szerelvény Rákospalota-Újpest állomáson, és bizonyosan órákig ott fog tartózkodni. Kértem, hogy írjon alá egy szolgálati jegyet, én reggel odamegyek, és visszahozok egy többgyermekes családapát. Beleegyezett. Meg is találtam a századot, és némi vita után sikerült a vagonból kiemelnem az illetőt. De nem ezért mesélem el az esetet. Miközben ott ügyködtem, láttam, hogy Lantos Gyuri az állomáson búcsúzkodik a menyasszonyától, aki taxival megjelent Gyuri telefonértesítésére. Javában búcsúzkodtak, amikor a szerelvény minden előzetes bejelentés nélkül kigördült az állomásról. Gyuri kétségbeesve rohant a vonat után, de nem érte el. Azt mondtam neki, jöjjön velem ő is vissza, majd megdumáljuk a főhadnagyot. Nem, nem, mondta, neki a vagonban van a teljes felszerelése. Beült a menyasszonya taxijába, és Vácott utolérte a vonatot. Így ő volt az, aki taxiba ült, hogy le ne maradjon Ukrajnáról.
A pótkeretnél novembertől január végéig végeztük ezt a munkát, amit normális körülmények között négy-öt nap alatt el lehetett volna végezni. Otthon laktunk, és mint a hivatalnokok,  9-től 2-ig dolgoztunk. 1942. január vége felé a főhadnagy közölte, hogy nem tudja tovább fedezni a dolgot, be kell fejezni tevékenységünket. Egyúttal közölte, hogy jó helyet talált nekünk, átkerülünk a Vasúti és Hidász Szertárnál dolgozó munkaszolgálatos századhoz. Ennek egy mérnökszázados volt a parancsnoka, aki feltalált egy újfajta ásót, amely csuklós rendszere révén kapaként is használható volt. Gyorsabban lehetett vele kiásni a lövészteknőt. A vasas szakmájú munkaszolgálatosok ezeket az ásókat gyártották egy nagy műhelyben. Én a műhelyirodára kerültem anyagnyilvántartónak, és egyúttal elláttam a századírnoki feladatokat is. Itt azután már semmiféle „katonáskodás” nem volt, legfeljebb annyi, hogy a kilépéshez kimenő cédula kellett. A nyolc órai munka után semmiféle sorakozó nem volt, még reggeli torna sem. A százados szerint az erőt a munka minél termelékenyebb végzésére kellett fordítani.
1943-ban Sztálingrád után enyhülés volt tapasztalható a munkaszolgálatosokkal való bánásmódban, legalábbis az ország határain belül. Kijött a honvédelmi miniszter [Nagybaczoni Nagy Vilmos] parancsa, hogy a hátországban szolgálatot teljesítő katonák és munkaszolgálatosok közül azokat, akik a három évet letöltötték, le kell szerelni. Így szereltem le én is 1943. szeptember 28-án.

Októberben már újra vonaton ültem mint utazó. Újra bekapcsolódtam a szocdem párt munkájába, mindjárt „beiskoláztak” egy vezetőképző tanfolyamra. A tanfolyam sikeres elvégzése után, engem is megbíztak előadással. Ezzel kezdődtek velem a párt problémái. Nekem akkor már megvolt a „Lenin 10”. A moszkvai Idegennyelvű Irodalmi Kiadó 12 kötetben megjelentette Lenin válogatott munkáit magyar nyelven is. Ennek a tizedik kötetéről van szó. Ma is őrzöm. Szóval az előadáshoz felhasználtam ezt a könyvet. A szocdem párt vájt fülű vezetői gyanúsnak találták a dolgot, és érdeklődni kezdtek, hogy milyen irodalomra támaszkodtam. Hivatkoztam Mónus, Justus elvtársak munkáira, de ezt nem tartották meggyőzőnek. Egy időre úgy nézett ki, hogy napirendre tértek az ügy fölött, de amikor azt javasoltam, hogy mi, utazók, akik feltűnés nélkül járjuk az országot, szervezhetnénk vidéken a pártot, akkor már komolyabbra vették a dolgot, és faggatni kezdtek, mióta vagyok tagja a Kommunista Pártnak. Hiába állítottam, hogy nem vagyok tagja, nem hitték el, és 1944. március 19-én, vasárnap délelőttre berendeltek a pártközpontba. Előre érzékeltették, hogy minden bizonnyal ki fognak zárni a pártból kommunistagyanússág miatt. Erre nem került sor, mert aznap a németek megszállták az országot, és a szocdem pártot azonnal betiltották.

A német megszállást követően április elején újból be kellett vonulnom. Jászberénybe szólt a behívás, ahol három nap, három éjjel több ezren a város melletti mezőn a szabad ég alatt vártuk, mi történik. Itt fedeztem fel Zentay Iván ezredest, akit áthelyeztek addigi beosztásából, s a jászberényi bevonulási központ parancsnokává nevezték ki. A harmadik napon kezdődött a századok szervezése. Kihirdették, hogy külön csoportban gyülekezzenek a szakmunkások, ezen belül külön az autószerelők, alvázlakatosok stb., a textilmunkások, asztalosok stb. Egy gyerek ott szaladgált össze-vissza. „Mit szaladgál, miért nem áll be? Mi a foglalkozása?” „Bádogos vagyok.” „Akkor miért nem áll be?” „Nem merek.” „Miért?” „Attól félek, kivisznek Németországba.” Erre az ezredes: „Németországba? Ezeknek szakember? Egy ilyet!”, és meglóbálta a karját.  Ezt azért helyezték át a katonaságtól a bevonulási központ parancsnokává, mert utálta a németeket. Nagy hazafi volt. Nekem meg egy barátomnak volt jogosítványunk, hát odaálltunk a gépkocsiszerelőkhöz. Jött az ezredes, és az első gyerektől kérdezi: Segédlevél? „Nincsen.” „Mutassa a kezét!” Mutatja. „Hát maga nem szerelő, maga drogista.” Erre a haverom: „Most mi lesz?” „Várj, majd én elintézem.” Odaér hozzánk az ezredes, és mielőtt megszólal: „Ezredes úr jelentem, az ezredes úrnál szolgáltam a Zách utcában.” Azt mondja, hogy akkor rendben van. „És ez a bóher?”, kérdezi. Mondom, ő is ott volt.

Akik ennél a válogatásnál nem jelentkeztek szakmunkásnak, azok Jugoszláviába, a bori rézbányába kerültek, és nagyon kevesen maradtak életben. Vagy még ott elpusztultak, vagy a visszavonulás során, Cservenkán lőtték halomra őket, vagy az úton lőtték tarkón, ha a gyalogmenettől legyengültek [Randolph L. Braham írja, hogy a németek 1944. szeptember közepén döntöttek Bor és környéke kiürítéséről. Az evakuált zsidók második csoportja, kb. 2500 ember szeptember 19-én hagyta el gyalogmenetben Bort. Több száz embert legyilkoltak útközben, a többiek október 6-án érkeztek Cservenkára, ahol 7-én és 8-án 700–1000 embert, miután előbb megásattak velük egy hatalmas gödröt, és lerakatták velük minden értéküket, még a karikagyűrűjüket is, lemészároltak, az életben maradottakat pedig továbbhajtották Zombor felé. (A magyar Holocaust, Budapest, Gondolat/Wilmington, Blackburn International Inc., é. N. [1988]. – A szerk.]. Ebben a csoportban pusztult el Radnóti Miklós költő is. Az autószerelőkből, lakatosokból, fényezőkből, autókárpitosokból szeroszlopokat képeztek, és a Hajógyári szigetre szállítottak bennünket, majd a mi 501. számú javító szeroszlopunk a jelenlegi Hámán Kató téren, a Községi Élelmiszer RT. kiürített barakkraktáraiban rendezkedett be. Én a lakatosműhely parancsnoka és a raktár vezetője lettem. Bár az elnevezés „javítószeroszlop” volt, semmiféle javító munkáról nem volt szó, hanem használható állapotban lévő különféle márkájú autókat kellett szétbontani, mivel a hadsereghez bevonultatott civil autókhoz nem volt alkatrész. A széttrancsírozott autók alvázai az udvaron rozsdásodtak, a motorok, sebességváltók, differenciálművek stb. felcédulázva a raktárba kerültek. Öt-hat hónapos ottlétem alatt senki sem jött semmiféle alkatrészért, miközben több száz autót bontottunk szét. Nekem kellett felcédulázni az alkatrészeket típus szerint. Észrevettem, hogy egyre kevesebb az AC-pumpa meg a kisebb dinamó. Kiderült, hogy a srácok árulták. A vevők a kerítésnél gyülekeztek. Egyszer csak feltűnt, hogy nem jönnek a hűtők. Egyik délután látom, hogy füst van. Mi van, szalonnát sütnek? Megyek oda, hát kiderült, hogy összetörték a hűtőket, beolvasztották, és forrasztó ónként árulták 60 pengőért kilóját.

Ez az adott körülmények között kellemesnek mondható szolgálat szeptember elején véget ért. Érkezett ugyanis egy parancs a mátyásföldi gépkocsi szertárból, hogy a szeroszlop adjon át a szertárnak egy lakatost, egy kovácsot és egy bádogost. Lakatosként csak én szerepeltem. A feleségem odavolt, mert minden nap itthon voltunk, jóformán szabadon mozogtunk. Mátyásföldön kellemes meglepetés ért bennünket. Egy nagy műhelyt találtunk civil munkásokkal és katonákkal. A művezető nagyon barátságosan fogadott bennünket. Azonnal adatott kezeslábast, és közölte, hogy semmi más teendőnk nem lesz, mint dolgozni, és csak hozzá tartozunk, a Szertárban nincs munkaszolgálatos alakulat. Ha haza akarunk menni, ő ad engedélyt.
Engem mindjárt megbízott egy csoport vezetésével, amely civil lakatosokból állott, és rajzokat adott, hogy állítsam össze az anyagszükségletet. Nem okozott problémát, mert a Vasúti és Hidász Szertárbeli anyagkönyvelői tevékenységem során megismertem a különböző acéllemezek, idomacélok méreteit. Egyébként jellemző az akkori katonai bornírtságra, hogy 1944 szeptemberében, amikor a szovjet csapatok már magyar földön harcoltak, valaki azt találta ki, hogy a Szertár fűtését most kell átalakítani légfűtésre. Az ehhez szükséges kazánokat kellett nekünk elkészíteni. Több tucat acéllemezt hoztunk a raktárból, én rajzoltam rájuk a rajz szerinti formákat, a munkatársaim pedig leszabták a darabokat. Jött a művezető, hogy kezdjük már meg az összeállítást. Mivel féltem, hogy esetleg nem fog stimmelni, nem húztam-halasztottam az összeállítást, és azt mondtam, hogy mi szalagszerűen dolgozunk, először csak szabunk, és azután összeállítunk. Már nem nagyon lehetett volna húzni a dolgot, amikor új helyzet állott elő. Behoztak vagy tíz darab kis Ansaldo tankot, hogy a páncélzatát meg kell erősíteni. Emiatt azon a vasárnapon – október 15-én – teljes létszámmal dolgozni kellett, nem volt hétvégi eltávozás. A délelőtt folyamán furcsa hírek kezdtek szállingózni, hogy a rádió bemondott valamit, hogy részünkről befejeztük a háborút, valami proklamációról beszéltek. 12 óra körül a Szertár parancsnoka összehívta az egész népet, katonákat, civileket, és furcsa, bizonytalan beszédet tartott. A lényege az volt, hogy nem lehet tudni semmit, ezért csak a civil munkások hagyhatják el a Szertár területét, s ha hétfőn reggel nem járna a HÉV, a Szertár teherautókat küld a Keletihez, hogy beszállítsa a munkásokat. Nekem ez az egész nem tetszett, és azt mondtam a társaimnak, most meg kell lógni. Lehurrogtak; most amikor vége a háborúnak? Én mindenesetre levéve a derékszíjat, a katonasapkát, a civil munkások közé keveredtem, és a már előzőleg szerzett háromszög alakú igazoló érmét felakasztva, kiléptem a Szertárból. A HÉV vonala mellett az árokban magyar katonákat láttam gépfegyverrel, tüzelőállásban, a laktanyából viszont az ott elhelyezett német alakulat katonái fegyver nélkül ki-be jártak. Mindez megerősített abban, hogy nincs rendben ez a háborúból való kilépés. Hazamentem, és azt mondtam a feleségemnek, hogy menjünk el a nagybátyjához, ne maradjunk otthon. Délután a rádió katonai indulókat kezdett játszani, majd többször ismételték: Beregffy vezérezredes azonnal jöjjön Budapestre. Estefelé pedig már nyilasokkal megrakott teherautók kezdtek szállingózni. Három-négy nap elteltével már bizonyossá vált, hogy sokkal rosszabb helyzet alakult ki. Telefonon felhívtam a művezetőt. Megnyugtatott, hogy nem jelentette az eltűnésemet, a zűrzavarban senki sem keresett, jöjjek nyugodtan vissza. Igen ám, de nem volt eltávozási cédulám, kértem küldjön valakivel. Hamarosan egy katona meg is hozta, s így mintha mi sem történt volna, bevonultam. Szóval ilyen emberek is voltak akkor azért. Nem csak csupa disznó, gazember.

November elsején mégis megszöktem. A dolog úgy történt, hogy a Szertár parancsnoka hivatott bennünket, és közölte velünk, hogy hadifoglyoknak vagyunk nyilvánítva, ami azt jelenti, hogy ha el akarjuk hagyni a körletet, akkor az őrség felszólítás nélkül lelő bennünket. Egyúttal azt is megtudtuk, hogy meg kell kezdeni a Szertár leszerelését, mert áttelepítik a Dunántúlra. Ez nekem már túl sok volt. Bevonultam mint karpaszományos, és most a saját hadseregem hadifogságába estem! Elhatároztam, hogy ezt nem csinálom tovább. Így aztán a már kipróbált módszerrel, a civil munkások közé keveredve, kisétáltam a Szertárból.

Az alapvető probléma az volt, hogy hová lehet menni. Mert haza nyilván nem mehettem, számítani kellett arra, hogy keresni fognak. Papírokat is jó lett volna szerezni, erre azonban nem kínálkozott lehetőség. A probléma úgy oldódott meg, hogy az anyósom egyik földijének, egy ítélőtáblai altisztnek volt Rákospalotán egy családi háza, amely bérbe volt adva. A bérlő, egy MÁV-tiszt bevonult, a családját pedig a bombázások elől Székesfehérvárra menekítette. Így a ház üresen állt, de a bérlő bútorai, háztartási felszerelése ott maradt. Orbán bácsi azt mondta, menjek oda, legalább megvédem a házat a kirablástól, ő megírja majd a bérlőnek, hogy egy Erdélyből menekült rokonát helyezte el a házban. Így tehát rákospalotai lakos lettem. Papírjaim nem voltak, csak egy Sáry László névre kiállított erkölcsi bizonyítványom, azt is Orbán bácsitól kaptam. Az első időkben ott volt velem a feleségem is a nagynénivel, és mindvégig az anyósom és a Budakalászról megszökött sógorom is. Az élelmezésről részben a feleségem gondoskodott, részben pedig a lakásban találtam egy leszögezett ládát, amelyben liszt, zsír, cukor, lekvár, borsó, bab volt elég nagy mennyiségben. A szeneskamra tele volt a MÁV-tól származó porosz szénnel. Mindnyájan a tágas konyhában helyezkedtünk el, mivel ez volt az egyetlen helyiség, amely nem az utcára nyílott.

Teltek, múltak a napok, már december volt, amikor a németeknek a tőlünk légvonalban alig száz méterre lévő vasútállomáson felállított légelhárító lövegét a szovjet repülők elkezdték bombázni. A környéken lévő házak is bőven kaptak ezekből. Mi szerencsére megúsztuk, de a feleségem a nagynénivel együtt idegileg nem bírták a földszintes házban a bombázást, így elhatározták, hogy bemennek Pestre, ahol pincében jobban elviselik a bombázást. Karácsony előtt még a villamosok is jártak, így elhatároztam, hogy szerelőruhában, szerszámtáskával a vállamon elkísérem őket. Mindenesetre azt mondtam, ne utazzunk egy kocsiban. Ők felszálltak az első kocsira, én a harmadik kocsi hátsó peronján helyezkedtem el. A villamos elindult, s nem is volt semmi probléma, amíg a Váci út fölött átívelő vasúti töltés utáni megállóhoz nem értünk. A megállóban megállt a villamos, és sehogy sem akart elindulni. Már azt hittem, hogy az akkoriban szokásos áramszünet az oka, amikor a mellettem álló munkásasszony kinézett, s azt mondta, már megint ez az igazoltatás, de csak a férfiakat igazoltatják. Gyorsan döntenem kellett. Elkezdtem káromkodni, hogy most már nem érdemes bemennem Pestre. Leszálltam, megálltam a villamos mellett, és látszólag teljes nyugalommal elővettem a dóznimat, sodortam egy cigarettát, rágyújtottam, és szép lassan megindultam a töltésre vezető lépcsőn lefelé. Amikor körülbelül a lépcső közepén jártam, visszapillantottam. Akkor lépett fel egy nyilas és egy SS arra a kocsira, amelyikről leszálltam.

Eltelt a karácsony, a szilveszter is, és ekkor már állandóan süvítettek a fejünk felett a gránátok oda-vissza, egészen január 9-ig. Ekkor este kimentem egy kicsit levegőzni, mivel éppen csend volt. Szikrázó hideg éjszaka volt, nagy hó, mínusz 10-15 fok. Ahogy ott álldogálok, egyszerre zenét hallok, a "J’attendrai"-t játszották [A háború alatt nagyon népszerű volt ez a dal. – A szerk.]. Azt hittem, agyamra ment a bujkálás, kihívtam a sógort, de ő is hallotta. Hamarosan megoldódott a rejtély, mert a zeneszám után először németül, majd magyarul jött a szöveg az ellenállás értelmetlenségéről stb. A szovjet hadsereg hangszórója volt. Na, mondtam, már nem lehetnek messze. Az éjszaka teljes csendben telt el, kora reggel sem hallatszott egyetlen lövés sem. Úgy kilenc óra körül egyszerre szekérzörgés hallatszott. Na, mondtam, most minden attól függ, ki ül a bakon. Egy öreg tatár volt. Felszabadultunk! Így, ilyen prózai módon következett be, amiről oly régen álmodoztunk, és amit valamiféle díszes külsőségek között képzeltük el.
Hamarosan, még a nap folyamán megjelentek a házunkban a szovjet katonák. Az obligát kérdés: „nyemecki”? után körülnéztek, majd pálinka után érdeklődtek. Én akkor oroszul egyetlen szót sem tudtam. Ma sem tudom megmagyarázni miért, de románul kezdtem velük beszélni, és az egyik katona válaszolt is. Az ukrán front katonái voltak, és nyilván akadt köztük moldáviai is, aki beszélt románul. Pálinkám nem volt, de elvittem őket a sarki kocsmába, ahol a pincében találtak egy demizson törkölyt. Nagyon meg voltak elégedve, és amikor érdeklődni kezdtem cigaretta felől, az egyikük egy egész marokkal adott. Volt abban Khedive, Memphis, Symphonia.

Én azt hittem, hogy egész Pesten vége a háborúnak, és be akartam menni a feleségemért Pestre. Eljutottam a Mexikói útig, ahol is a járdára állított, látszólag elhagyott ágyuk csöve alatt bujkálva araszoltam előre, mivel az úttest a szétlőtt járművek, döglött lovak miatt járhatatlan volt. Az egyik ilyen bujkálásom alatt óriási dörrenést hallottam. Először azt hittem, valami lövedék csapódott be, aztán felnéztem, és megértettem a helyzetet. Egy ágyú mögötti üzlethelyiségben három fiatal szovjet katona üldögélt, és kártyázott. Az egyiknek a fülén fejhallgató volt. Amikor felállt és letette a hallgatót, a többiek is követték. Elsütötték az ágyút, töltöttek és visszamentek kártyázni. Amikor megláttak, félreérthetetlen taglejtésekkel visszazavartak. Másnap megint kísérleteztem. Megtaláltam a feleségemet, és az előrelátóan magammal vitt gézzel bebugyoláltam a fejét, alig látszott ki valami az arcából. Ő ezt nem nagyon értette, de nekem már komoly tapasztalataim voltak a harctéri dolgokról, így én meg bottal jártam, és ha katonákat láttam közeledni, mindjárt sántítottam. Így sikerült elkerülni a „kicsi robotra” [lásd: malenkij robot] való igénybevételt. Elindultunk vissza Rákospalotára. Az utcák képe rettenetes volt. Kiégett üzletek, belövésekkel teli házak, üres ablakszárnyak, a kirakatokban halott katonák. Az utcai trafikosbódék, telefonfülkék tele voltak magyar katonai öltözékekkel, kézi fegyverekkel, amiket eldobáltak azok, akiknek sikerült polgári öltözékre szert tenni. Döglött lovak, szétlőtt teherautók, lövegek, tankok az úttesten, leszakadt villamosvezetékek.

Visszaérkezve Rákospalotára, a sógorommal együtt megkerestük a Kommunista Párt helyiségét, és jelentkeztünk. Munkát adtak, de a pártba való jelentkezésünkre azt mondták, hogy majd az állandó lakóhelyünkön kerítsünk erre sort. Ez teljesen érthető volt, hiszen nem ismertek bennünket.

Most már a hazamenetelre kellett gondolnunk. Nem tudtuk, egyáltalán megvan-e a lakás. Így aztán a sógorral nekiindultunk a felderítő útnak. A lakásunkat, ami a Kisfuvaros utcában volt, lebombázták. A lakásra a letéti díjat, 1200 pengőt az apósom tette le, amikor összeházasodtunk. Egy épp akkor újjáépített háromemeletes házban volt, egy nagyon kedves kis utcai lakás az első emeleten. Volt egy szoba, fürdőszoba, konyha és erkély. A havi bére 160 pengő volt.  Az apósom olyan anyagi helyzetben volt, hogy tudott venni egy lakást. Arra nem emlékszem, mennyibe került. Pár ezer pengő. De hát nem sokáig tudtunk ott együtt élni, mert ismét be kellett vonulnom.

Idáig nem mondtam, de közben, 1942-ben feleségül vettem Büchler Klára Líviát. Úgy ismerkedtünk meg, hogy az öccse nem szeretett tanulni. Gimnazista volt, bukott is, és házitanítót kerestek. Az egyik tanítóképzős diáktársam engem javasolt. Így kerültem 1936-ban hozzájuk, mint a sógorom házitanítója. Ez egy jómódú kispolgári család volt. Az apósom kereskedelmi utazó volt. Nagyon szépen keresett, nagyon jó üzletember volt, és nagyon szépen éltek. A felesége nem dolgozott. Minden nyáron Balatonszárszón nyaraltak. A gyerekeknek igyekeztek mindent megadni, de Tibor nem szeretett tanulni, csak focizni és pingpongozni. Azért leérettségizett, és elvégezte a Testnevelési Főiskolát. Később évtizedekig volt a Magyar Asztalitenisz Szövetség főtitkára, ma is él. A fia, Péter [Bihari Péter] egyetemet végzett, történész lett, könyvei és tankönyvei jelennek meg. A felesége angoltanár, és van három gyerekük. Klári [azaz a későbbi feleség, Forgács Tiborné] két évig tanult zongorázni, de két év után abbahagyta. Unta, hogy a zongoratanár messze lakott, és hetente négyszer kellett utazni és gyakorolni is, mert zongorájuk nem volt. Próbálták németre is taníttatni. (A feleség: az apám hozatott egy fräuleint Bécsből, aki jól megtanult magyarul, de én nem voltam hajlandó németül beszélni. Elég elkényeztetett kölyök voltam. Tizenhat éves koromtól jártam bálokra és táncestekre. Nagyon hamar nagylány akartam lenni. Anyám kísérgetett, ő is csináltatott estélyi ruhát, sőt volt olyan bál is, ahová apám szmokingot húzott, és eljött. Majdnem minden nap mentünk valahova, de ez nem mind bál volt. Aztán tizennyolc éves koromban jött a zsidótörvény [lásd: zsidótörvények Magyarországon], és ez abbamaradt.)

A Népszínház utca 47-ben volt egy kétszobás lakásuk, oda jártam az öccsét, Tibort tanítani. Klára elvégezte a négy polgárit, és beiratkozott egy ilyen kereskedelmi szaktanfolyamra. Ez nem kereskedelmi középiskola volt, csak egy tanfolyam [lásd: női kereskedelmi szaktanfolyamok]. Neki sem nagyon ment a tanulás, és neki is a házitanítója lettem. Így kezdődött. Két vagy három évig házitanítóskodtam náluk, még akkor is, amikor a KERAK-ra jártam. A feleségem szokta mondani, hogy a matematikánál majdnem mindig elaludt, amikor magyaráztam neki. Egyébként jellemző volt rám, hogy a sógorom gimnáziumba járt, és latint is tanultak. Én latint nem tanultam, a tanítóképzőn nem volt. De mindig készültem előre az ő latinkönyvéből, és így tanítottam őt a latinra. Meg is tanultam sok mindent latinból az alatt az idő alatt. Nagyon rendes család volt, mindig adtak uzsonnát, adtak egy kávét, nem csak azt a húsz vagy harminc pengőt, amit a tanításért fizettek egy hónapban.

Amikor Klári befejezte a kereskedelmi tanfolyamot, állásba ment, a Rákóczi úton a Hazai Konfekció nevezetű cégnél lett tisztviselő. Ősszel jöttem vissza Komádiból, és az utcán összetalálkoztam az anyósommal. Nagyon kedves volt, és mondta, hogy menjek fel hozzájuk. Fölmentem. Már voltam náluk vagy kétszer, és akkor voltak ezek a táncestélyek, és azt mondja az anyósom, hogy jöjjön maga is. Ilyen szép ruhában jöhet. Mert akkor a kendergyári nyári keresményemből csináltattam egy szép ruhát. Ő hozott össze bennünket. Nagyon szeretett engem, és én is nagyon szerettem őt, nagyon rendes asszony volt. Így kezdődött. Szép lány volt a feleségem, kedves, helyes lány volt, úgyhogy szépen lassan összemelegedtünk. Én addig csak ilyen egyszerűbb táncokat tudtam magamtól, de akkor elmentem egy tánciskolába.

Amíg én munkaszolgálatos voltam, a feleségem tovább dolgozott a Hazai Konfekciónál, aztán egy ideig a Markovics nevű kalapüzletben. A Váci utcában volt egy nagy kalapgyárféle. Erre emlékszem. Negyven pengő volt a havi fizetése. Aztán 1945 után már nem engedtem dolgozni. Ő már csak a gyerekeket nevelte, és a háztartást vezette.

Szóval, amikor a háború végén visszajöttünk Rákospalotáról, a lakásunk le volt bombázva. Odaköltöztünk az anyósomhoz, a Népszínház utca 47-be. Az apósom meghalt a munkaszolgálatban. Ez egy kétszobás, előszobás, cselédszobás, konyhás, fürdőszobás volt, lehetett egy olyan kilencven négyzetméter. Az egyik szobában lakott az anyósom, a másikban mi, a cselédszobában pedig a sógorom, a Bihari Tibor. Ő rögtön 1945-ben Büchlerröl Biharira magyarosított. Mi is 1945-ben magyarosítottunk Freikindről Forgácsra.

1947-ig laktunk az anyósomnál, akkor kaptunk a József utca 7-ben egy első emeleti kétszobás elég nagy lakást, ahol öt évig laktunk. A gyerekek itt születtek. 1952-ben cseréltük el erre a mostanira, ami valamivel kisebb, de ott a József utcában a szobánk nem volt külön bejáratú, a gyerekek szobáján keresztül kellett átjárni. Ez a mostani lakás kétszoba-összkomfortos, és van egy cselédszoba is. Összesen 86 négyzetméter. A gyerekeink itt nőttek fel.

Amikor visszajöttünk Rákospalotáról, a sógorommal jelentkeztünk a Kommunista Párt VIII. kerületi szervezetében, a Tavaszmező utcában. Az első feladatunk az volt, hogy a Mária Terézia téri [ma Horváth Mihály tér] iskolában rendezzünk be egy napközi otthont. Takarítottunk, üvegeztünk, és valami élelmet is kellett szerezni.

1946 elején egyik emlékezetes pártfeladatom volt a Ganz-gyári szereplésem. Azért küldtek ki, mert a munkások az infláció, az ellátási helyzet miatt le akartak állni. Nem volt veszélytelen a feladat teljesítése, fennállott a megveretés lehetősége. Egy munkásgyűlésbe csöppentem bele. Egy nagy csarnokban voltak, amit ebédlőnek is használtak. Nem volt itt szó szabályos gyűlésről, előadásról. A nagy hangzavarban nehezen sikerült valamennyire is csendet teremteni. Én azzal kezdtem, mondják el, mit akarnak. Hát megmondták: menjünk ki az utcára, verjük szét az elszaporodott eszpresszókat, ahol az infláció vámszedői dőzsölnek és üzletelnek, miközben a munkások éheznek. „Jó – mondtam –, menjünk.” „Maga is jön velünk?” „Igen, de előbb tisztázzunk valamit. Kimegyünk az utcára, szétverjük az eszpresszókat, néhány feketézőt megruházunk, de mi lesz azután? Mi változik meg?” Csönd lett. Majd egy hang: „Maga szerint mi lesz?” „Semmi.” „Hát akkor?” „Nézzék, normális helyzetet csak úgy tudunk teremteni, ha tovább dolgozunk. A Párt is csak így tudja beváltani az ígéretét, hogy véget vet az inflációnak. Akárhogy is, de ki kell bírnunk augusztusig.” Akadtak hangok – „nekünk nem ígéretek kellenek” stb. –, de a többség lehurrogta őket. Majd egy láthatóan tekintélyes szaki a következőket mondta: „Hát jó, végigcsináljuk ezt augusztusig, de idefigyeljen, fiatalember, ha akkor nem úgy lesz, ahogy maguk mondják, akkor nem ajánlom magának, hogy a gyár környékén lássuk.” Mint tudjuk, nyugodtan mehettem a gyárba augusztus 1-je után, mert megvolt az új forint, és megszűnt az infláció [lásd: a forint bevezetése].

A pártban a munkám jó részét a pártoktatás területén végeztem. Oktattam is, és kijártam  ellenőrizni is a szemináriumokat.

Még 1945-ben összetalálkoztam egy volt tanítóképzős társammal, aki meghalt azóta, szegény, és azt mondta, hogy jöjjek segíteni, csináljuk meg a Pedagógus Szakszervezetet. Először a Reáltanoda utcában volt egy helyiségünk, közösen egy másik szakszervezettel. Aztán lefoglaltuk a Múzeum utcában a Károlyi palotát. És akkor ott dolgoztam, én voltam a Pedagógus Szakszervezet gazdasági vezetője. Onnan 1948-ban pártutasításra áthelyeztek a Belkereskedelmi Minisztériumba a Szakoktatási Osztályra. De nem sokáig dolgoztam ott, csak egy pár hónapig, és év végén behívtak egyhónapos pártiskolára. Kiderült, hogy azért csinálták, mert a Műegyetemből kiváló új Marx Károly Közgazdasági Egyetem tanári karát szedték össze. Nagyon jól sikerült a vizsgám, az is kiderült, hogy már foglalkoztam a marxizmussal, 1937-től tagja voltam a szocdem pártnak, és főiskolát is végeztem, és az egyhónapos pártiskolán a végén egy ilyen vizsga volt, és én voltam a legjobb. A pártiskola után áthelyeztek az egyetemre, és ott lettem docens 1949-ben. Az, hogy nem egyetemi végzettségem van, hanem főiskolai, nem érdekelt akkor senkit. Az érdekelte őket, hogy mit tud az illető.  És miután nekem kereskedelmi gyakorlatom is volt, a belker  tanszékre tettek.

Vajda államtitkár volt a tanszékvezető, aki csak néha jött be előadást tartani [Vajda Imre (1900–1969) – közgazdász, szociáldemokrata politikus, kereskedelemi, majd iparügyi államtitkár, az Országos Tervhivatal első elnöke. 1950-ben koholt vádakkal életfogytiglani börtönre ítélték, 1956-ban szabadult. A MKKE tanszékvezető tanára (1956–65). – A szerk.]. A belker tanszéket gyakorlatilag én vezettem helyette. Utána Bognár József, a belker miniszter lett a tanszékvezető, és helyette is én dolgoztam [Bognár József (1917–1996) – a Független Kisgazdapárt tagja, országgyűlési képviselő (1945–1990), Budapest polgármestere (1947–49), többször töltött be miniszteri posztot, a közgazdasági egyetem tanára, akadémikus. – A szerk.]. Egy idő múlva kérte, hogy ezt ne csináljuk tovább, ő szívesen segít, de nevezzenek ki engem tanszékvezetőnek. És akkor 1956-ban kineveztek. A nyugdíjba vonulásomig, 1986-ig voltam a belkereskedelmi tanszék vezetője.

Közben 1950-ben behívtak a pártközpontba, és közölték velem, hogy az egyetemen meg kell csinálni a pártbizottságot, és én vagyok a titkár. Közölték. Mit lehetett csinálni?  Megcsináltuk. Lettek karonként alapszervezetek, de hát én továbbra is tanszékvezető voltam, és e mellett kellett társadalmi munkában csinálni. Ez ment egy pár hónapig, és akkor bementem, és mondtam, hogy kérem szépen, ezt nem lehet társadalmi munkában csinálni, kell ide egy függetlenített. És akkor küldtek egy függetlenített párttitkárt. Úgyhogy én hat vagy hét hónapig csináltam.

1951 nyarán behívtak tartalékos tiszti kiképzésre. 1951 nyara igen meleg volt, és különösen az volt a kiskunhalasi homokvidéken, ahová bevonultunk. Az, hogy a 3-4 kilométerre fekvő gyakorlótérre az akkor rendszeresített jókora súlyú Maxim géppuskát a hátunkon kellett cipelni, még hagyján. De amikor az elméleti foglalkozásokat 25-30 fokos melegben a homokon üldögélve a tűző napon tartották, azt már szóvá tettük. Azt a választ kaptuk, hogy ez is a szükséges edzéshez tartozik, amelyre az ilyen elpuhult civileknek feltétlenül szükségük van ahhoz, hogy katonát faragjanak belőlük. A túlnyomórészt párttitkárokból álló ezredben az egyik legnehezebb próbatételt számunkra a politikai foglalkozások jelentették. Ennek anyagát egy, a honvédség részére készült könyv adta. A nem kellően képzett fiatal politikai tiszt a könyvből kigépeltette az esedékes részt, és azt olvasta fel, nem merve eltérni a megadott szövegtől. A tízhetes kiképzés után a tanfolyam egy részét további kéthetes politikai tiszti tanfolyamra vezényelték.

1957-ben megszereztem a kandidátusi címet, 1975-ben pedig a tudományok doktora címet. Közben voltam kétszer dékán. Egyszer 1955 és 1957 között, majd Berend T. Iván rektorsága alatt 1977 és 1979 között. Közben persze azért a tanszéket is vezettem. Rektorhelyettes is voltam 1982 körül, de csak egy évig, mert amikor az akkori rektor, Nagy Tamás lemondott, az én rektorhelyettességem is megszűnt [Nagy Tamás (1914–1993) – közgazdász, egyetemi tanár. A Közgazdaságtudományi Egyetem egyik alapítója, tanszékvezetője (1952–54), nevéhez fűződik Marx: A tőke c. művének fordítása. 1964–66 között a gazdasági reformot előkészítő szakmai szervezet titkárságának vezetője. – A szerk.].

Talán furcsa, hogy ezt mondom, de én egy tehetséges gyerek voltam. Nagyon sokat olvastam, az átlagnál műveltebb voltam, és szakmailag is jól képzett voltam. Igaz, jól csak németül tudtam. Tanultam oroszul egy darabig, mert mondták, hogy illik oroszul tudni, mert kapcsolatunk van orosz egyetemmel… Egy pár hónapig jártam, aztán abbahagytam. Diákkoromban jártam angol tanfolyamra, és megtanultam elég sok mindent, szóval, mondjuk, szakmai szöveget ma is elég jól megértek, szótári segítséggel. Nem lehetne eladni angolul sem. A román, az csak ilyen konyhanyelv. Amikor a kandidátusihoz be kellett írni egy keleti nyelvet is, akkor a románt írtam be. De hát akkoriban nem kellett nyelvvizsgát tenni. Csak be kellett írni, hogy milyen nyelven tudok.

Egy idő múlva bizonyos dolgokban szembekerültem a pártvezetéssel, mert nem értettem egyet sok mindennel. A Rajk-ügy volt az első, azt nem hittem el. Akkoriban a Rudas volt a rektor, és ő mondta, hogy „Maguk még nem tudják, hogy mi következik.” Ő a Szovjetunióból jött vissza, ott végigcsinálta, ugye ővele is… [Rudas László (1885–1950) – 1918-ban a KMP egyik alapítója, a Tanácsköztársaság bukása után Bécsbe menekült, 1922-től 1945-ig a Szovjetunióban élt, 1948-tól haláláig a közgazdaságtudományi egyetem tanára, az intézmény első rektora. A dogmatikus marxizmus–leninizmus elméletének legismertebb magyarországi képviselője. – A szerk.]

Aztán 1956-ban különösen. 1956. október 22-én az egyetemen nagygyűlést hívtak össze, és tele volt a nagyelőadó. Főleg diákok voltak, tanárok kevesen, és az öreg Fogarasi Béla filozófust, a rektort is odaültették az elnökségbe [Fogarasi Béla (1891–1959) – filozófus, egyetemi tanár. A Tanácsköztársaság bukása után emigrált. 1945-ben tért haza Moszkából. A budapesti bölcsészkar filozófiaprofesszora, majd 1957-ig a közgazdasági egyetem rektora. Akadémikus. – A szerk.]. Egy bemondó sorolta, hogy milyen jogokat kellene megadni. Nagy részükben igazuk volt, és én egyet is értettem. De egyszer csak egy cédula érkezett a bemondóhoz, aki felolvasta, hogy követeljük, hogy a szovjet hadsereg fehér zászlókkal vonuljon ki azonnal az országból. Hát akkor szakadt a cérna, és felálltam. Mondtam, kérem szépen, egyetértek sok mindennel, de hát ne csinálják, ne tegyék nevetségessé magukat. A szovjet hadsereg, a világ egyik legerősebb hadserege nem fog kivonulni fehér zászlóval, mert a közgazdaságtudományi egyetem diákjai ezt követelik. Ez egy nevetséges dolog. Erre bekiabáltak, hogy sztálinista, meg nem tudom, mi. Jó, csak mondják, de értsék meg, hogy ezt ne csinálják. És akkor az öreg Fogarasi azt mondta, hogy ha ezt nem vonják vissza, akkor ő kimegy. Erre eltépték a cédulát.

Néhány tanszéki munkatársammal megbeszéltük, hogy nem szabad engedni, hogy mindenféle alakok bejöjjenek ide az egyetemre. Fegyvert kéne szerezni, hogy megvédjük az egyetemet. Erre a számvitel tanszék vezetője azt mondta, hogy ő ismeri a rendőrkapitányt, a Kopácsit, és szerez [Kopácsi Sándor (1922–2001) – rendőrtiszt, Budapest rendőrfőkapitánya (1952–56), 1956. október 31-én a Forradalmi Honvédelmi Bizottmány tagja, november 1-jén a Nemzetőrség helyettese parancsnokává választották. Az MSZMP héttagú Intéző Bizottságának tagja (november 1–4.), majd november 5-én a szovjet katonai szervek letartóztatták. A Nagy Imre-perben hatodrendű vádlottként életfogytiglani börtönre ítélték, 1963-ban, az általános amnesztiával szabadult. 1975-ben kivándorolt Kanadába, 1990-ben tért haza. – A szerk.]. Elment, és hozott géppisztolyokat, meg hozott pufajkákat is. És akkor négy munkatársam meg én fegyvert fogtunk, lezártuk az épület kapuját, és őriztük.

1956 után felelősségre vontak, hogy fegyvert fogtam. Mondtam, hogy én az ellenforradalom ellen fogtam fegyvert. Volt egy gőzös fejű kölyök, az akkori egyetemi párttitkár. Nem tudták bizonyítani, hogy én mit csináltam, de hát ez mégis gyanús, ezért két évvel később neveztek ki egyetemi tanárnak. Büntetésből, mert szerintük nem voltam elég harcos. Pedig pont ellenkezőleg, ők sehol se voltak, nem mertek az egyetem közelébe sem jönni, mi pedig odamentünk a legnagyobb tűzben, és védtük az egyetemet. Amikor jöttek az oroszok, összeszedtem a fegyvereket, és betettem egy szekrénybe a dékáni hivatalban. Mondtam nekik, hogy kérem, itt vannak a fegyverek. Erre azt mondták, hogy hagyjuk ott, ők nem viszik el. Ellenben mondták, hogy menjünk ki az üzemekbe a munkásokat felvilágosítani. Mondtam, ne kérjenek ilyen gyerekséget, ha kimegyünk, a munkások kikergetnek. Nem olyan a helyzet, hogy most ott előadásokat tarthatunk. Ezt is úgy vették, hogy megtagadtam a feladatot, tehát nem vagyok százszázalékos kommunista. Hát annyiból igazuk volt, hogy nekem voltak kételyeim. Több kételyem is volt. A legnagyobb szomorúság a Rajk-ügy volt. Akkor tényleg azt mondtam, hogy valami nem stimmel. Persze agitálni nem mertem. Ki mert akkor? 

Aztán 1956 után jöttek, hogy elő kell venni azokat a diákokat, akik részt vettek a dolgokban. És az egyik diák, aki később a MERKÚR-nak [Gépkocsiimporttal foglalkozó külkereskedelmi vállalat. – A szerk.] lett az igazgatója, akkor, azt hiszem, negyedikes volt, egy pécsi gyerek volt, és hazament, amikor jött a cirkusz. Az ottani ismerősei rábeszélték, hogy menjen velük. De semmit nem csinált, csak odament velük. És jött az ukáz, hogy emiatt ki kell zárni az egyetemről. Erre én leküldtem az egyik munkatársamat Pécsre, nézze meg, hogy mi volt. Visszajött, hogy nem csinált ez semmit. Nem engedtem kizárni a gyereket. Erre azt mondták, hogy én védem az ötvenhatosokat. Szóval, voltak ilyen bajaim, de kibírtam.

Közben végig dékán voltam. Sőt 1958-ban a kerületi pártbizottság tagja lettem, 1970 körül pedig kineveztek a kerületi fegyelmi bizottság elnökévé. Na, ez lett a vesztem, mert jött egy új kerületi párttitkár, egy nő, a nevére nem emlékszem, és szólt, hogy XY-t zárjátok ki a pártból. Erre mondtam, hogy hát majd megvizsgáljuk. Megvizsgáltuk, és mondtam, hogy semmi ok nincs rá, hogy kizárjuk. „Hát ez micsoda dolog! Nem lehet. Tessék kizárni!” Nem voltam hajlandó. Erre utána megköszönték a működésemet, és lemondattak a fegyelmi bizottság elnökségéről. De a kerületi pártbizottságnak 1973-ig tagja maradtam.

1986-ban nyugdíjba mentem, de még 1991-ig tanítottam, bejártam az egyetemre előadásokat tartani. De aztán a belker szakot is megszüntették.

Sok kitüntetést kaptam. A „Belkereskedelem Kiváló Dolgozója” kitüntetést kétszer, 1950-ben és 1970-ben. Az „Oktatás Kiváló Dolgozójá”-t 1976-ban. „Szocialista Kultúráért” kitüntetést 1972-ben, „Felszabadulás Emlékérme”-t, „Munka Érdemrend” bronz fokozatát 1964-ben, ezüst fokozatát 1966-ban, arany fokozatát 1973-ban. És hát még ilyen „Jubileumi Emlékérme”-t, „Kiváló Népi Ellenőr”-t, mert sokat dolgoztam a népi ellenőrzésnek. Ezenkívül katonai kitüntetéseim is vannak.

Az 1960-as években tagja lettem az Európai Piackutató és Marketing Szövetségnek (ESOMAR), és ennek révén a hatvanas és hetvenes években sokszor utaztam Nyugat-Európába konferenciákra. Az ESOMAR konferenciákon az volt a szokás, hogy több fogadást szerveztek. Ismerkedési est, a város polgármesterének fogadása, és rendszerint egy vállalat vagy intézet is adott fogadást. Amszterdamban többek között a Bols cég [1575-ben alapított, amszterdami székhelyű szesz- és likőrgyár. – A szerk.] is adott egy fogadást. Ezekre a fogadásokra mint vacsoraalkalmakra nemcsak mi, vékonyabb pénzű „keletiek”, hanem a „nyugatiak” is számítottak. Így aztán érthető volt az egyik angol kolléga felháborodása, mivel nem túl sok, ám picike szendvicsfélék voltak kirakva és pattogatott kukorica. Ital viszont volt bőségesen. Négyen beszélgettünk: egy angol, egy nyugatnémet, egy osztrák és én, és egyöntetűen fel voltunk háborodva az ennivaló-kínálaton. Az angol közölte, hogy megbünteti a céget, és elvisz egy olyan poharat, amelynek az oldalára koktélreceptek voltak felírva. A német és az osztrák rögtön csatlakozott. Várakozva néztek rám: és ön? – Nekem már kettő a zsebemben van. Óriási nevetés tört ki.

1947-ben született Éva lányom és 1951-ben Gábor fiam. Általánosba a Német utcai iskolába jártak. Arról van egy emlékem. Első elemista volt a fiam, és nagyon szerette a tanítónőjét. Jött a tanító néni születésnapja, és a fiam egy barátjával megbeszélte, hogy a zsebpénzükből vesznek valamit. Hát mit vegyenek? Csokit vettek. Amikor megvették, akkor a fiam elkezdett spekulálni, hogy mégis, egy felnőttnek csokit… Erre elmentek a Rákóczi téri csarnokba – ezt a virágárusnő mesélte utólag –, odamentek egy virágárus nénihez, hogy „Néni, kérem, tessék nekünk elcserélni virágra ezt a csokit”. És akkor adott egy virágot, és azt a virágot vitték a tanító néninek.

Sportolni különösebben nem sportoltak, és zenét sem tanultak. A feleségem foglalkozott a gyerekekkel, a fiammal például leült tanulni, leckét csinálni. A lányommal nem kellett, ő önállóan, nagyon jól tanult. Jó tanuló volt. Én szerettem, ha önállók a gyerekek, nem nagyon szóltam bele.

Gimnáziumba mindketten a Fazekasba jártak. A Fazekasba nem volt nehéz bekerülniük, mert az a volt tanítóképzős kollégám volt az igazgatója, akivel együtt csináltuk a Pedagógus Szakszervezetet. Szóltam neki, de hát amúgy is felvették volna őket, mert jó volt a bizonyítványuk. Szerintem nem kellett különösebb protekció. Az csak véletlen, hogy ő volt az igazgató, és szóltam neki.

Évát rögtön felvették a bölcsészkarra. Hát a Fazekasnak jó neve volt. Beiratkozott művészettörténetre és angolra, aztán a második évben felvette a franciát is. Úgyhogy a végén lett művészettörténet és angol–francia szakos, és emiatt egy évvel később végezte el az egyetemet.

Éva már az egyetem alatt ilyen ellenzéki körben forgolódott, de ebből soha nem volt konfliktus. Én tiszteltem a gyerekeim gondolatait, és soha nem akartam befolyásolni őket. Ők maguk döntsék el, hogy milyen irányban akarnak menni. Itthon soha nem is volt nálunk politikai vita vagy ilyesmi. Kellemetlenségem nem volt abból, hogy Éva ilyen körökben forog. Egyszer egy egyetemi kollégám megjegyezte, hogy hát, hogy neveled te a gyerekedet, de én sokat nem törődtem vele. A pártbizottságra ezért nem hívtak be, a BM nem szólt. Azt tudom, hogy egyszer az Évát be akarták szervezni. Útlevélügyben ment be, és akkor be akarták szervezni. Ő eléggé mereven visszautasította, és elmondta itthon. Mondom, én tudomásul vettem, hogy ő is meg a férje is ilyen. Hát … azért is, mert én nem voltam olyan vad kommunista. Én tudomásul vettem, hogy ő az SZDSZ-szel szimpatizál. Az ő dolga, én nem akartam őt befolyásolni. Én meg az MSZP-be léptem be, mert hát 1937 óta csinálom, 67 éve, hát nem tudom abbahagyni. De az MSZP-ben se funkcióm, se semmi…

Miután Éva végzett, főleg nyelvtanításból élt, és közben csinálta a művészettörténeti dolgait. Fő témája a Bauhaus volt, erről könyvei is jelentek meg. Aztán felvették az Iparművészeti Múzeumba. 1970-ben férjhez ment a vele egy korú filozófus, történész Tatár Györgyhöz. Abból a házasságból nem volt gyerek. Hat év múlva elváltak. Aztán a filmrendező Gazdag Gyula lett a második férje. Tízegynéhány éve kimentek Amerikába. Gyula tanszékvezető- helyettesi állást kapott a Los Angeles-i egyetemen, Évi pedig az egyik közeli város egyetemén külső előadó, hetenként kétszer jár oda. Még itthon született két gyerekük, 1981-ben Péter, 1983-ban Júlia. Péter Los Angelesben végzett egyetemet, festőművész akar lenni, és most épp itt jár Budapesten egy évet a Képzőművészetire. Minden szombaton itt ebédel nálunk, és naponta telefonál. Tavasszal pedig New Yorkba megy egy másik egyetemre, még akar tanulni. A húga is épp itt van most látogatóban, ő New Yorkban jár egyetemre.

Gábor érettségi után a Belkereskedelmi Főiskolára ment, és a szállodai szakot végezte el. Utána a Rege szálló igazgatója lett. Előzőleg mint diák nyáron mindig valamelyik szállodánál dolgozott, mint segéd-mit-tudom-én, csomaghordó. A Rege szálló szövetkezeti tulajdonban volt, és akkor lett készen, amikor végzett. Gábor úgy került oda, hogy a főiskolától kérdezték, mi a véleményük a fiamról, és ők javasolták a fiamat. És akkor ő lett a Rege szálló első igazgatója. Ott volt néhány évig, és közben megnősült. Aztán összeveszett a szövetkezet gazdasági igazgatójával. Azon vesztek össze, hogy bővítették a szállodát, méghozzá egy bécsi építőcéggel állapodtak meg, és anélkül, hogy a fiamnak egy szót szóltak volna, a gazdasági igazgató bevette a megállapodásba, hogy ingyen kosztot is kapnak az ott dolgozó munkások. És akkor a fiam bement, és mondta, hogy képzeli azt, meg se kérdezi. Nagyon összevesztek. Utána még súlyosabb lett a dolog, mert a főigazgató behívta a fiamat, hogy menjen be a szövetkezet központjába, és vállalja el a helyettességet. Erre azt mondta, hogy ilyen emberek közé, ahol ilyen ember van, mint az a gazdasági igazgató, ő nem megy. Ezzel aztán végképp elvágta magát, és el is jött onnan. Egy olyan vállalathoz ment, a neve nem jut eszembe, amely külföldiek golfozásával meg ilyenekkel foglalkozott. Akkor ez a gazdasági igazgató utánanyúlt, és ott is piszkálni kezdte. Végül megunta, és kiment Kanadába. Ez már jóval a rendszerváltás után volt. Ott is szállodában dolgozik. Beszél oroszul, angolul és azt hiszem, németül is. A felesége szintén közgazdász, egyetemet végzett, ő franciául és angolul tud, és most ott állami hivatalban van. Nekik is még itthon született a két gyerekük, 1985-ben Ágnes és 1987-ben Tamás. Ágnes egyetemre jár, Tamás most fog érettségizni.

A háború előtt kizárólag a feleségem barátnői adták a baráti társaságot. Nekem nem volt semmiféle baráti köröm. Nem voltam pesti, úgyhogy… nem volt. Egy gyerek volt, a Blum Miklós, akivel valahogy megismerkedtem, az beletartozott a baráti körbe, meg egy osztálytársam, Svéd Sámuelnak hívták, ő elpusztult a munkaszolgálatban. De a többi az csak a feleségem révén, és azok is mind zsidók voltak.

1945 után egyrészt folyatódott a feleségem révén megismert megmaradt barátokkal a kapcsolat, csak akkor már házaspárokként jelentkeztek. Ezen kívül nem volt olyan szorosabb baráti kötelék, akivel rendszeresen összejártunk. Az egyetemről nem voltak barátaink. Megmondom őszintén, nekem az volt az elvem, hogy nem építhetek ki egyik vagy másik munkatársammal baráti kapcsolatot, mert akkor a másik joggal mondja, hogy… és minddel nem tudok kiépíteni. Úgyhogy emiatt… én nagyon jó kapcsolatban voltam a munkatársaimmal, nagyon szerettük egymást, tiszteltük egymást, de nem jártunk össze.

A nyugdíjba vonulásom után sokáig bejártam az Akadémia klubjába bridzselni. Az egyetemen a tanszékemen dolgozott egy nagyon kedves fiú, az tanított meg bridzselni. A feleségem nem tud, ő csak römizik.  Azt mondta, hogy amiben nagyon kell gondolkodni, olyat ő nem játszik. Ő szórakozni akar, nem gondolkodni. Évekig jártam az Akadémia klubjába, de most abbahagytam, az idén már nem mentem, mert sajnos csupa öregasszony jött, és idegesített a játékuk. Nem úgy játszottak, ahogy kellene. És az már nem játék, hogy arra kell figyelnem, hogy amit licitál, az igaz-e.

Barátokkal egyszer-kétszer voltunk nyaralni, kirándulni, de rendszeresen nem. Az egyik barátomnak volt autója, nekem akkor még nem volt, és együtt mentünk Pest környékére. Nekem 1970 körül lett először autóm, egy Trabant. Nem kellett rá várnom, szerencsém volt, mert az a pécsi fiú lett a MERKÚR igazgatója, akit 1956-ban nem rúgtam ki az egyetemről. Úgyhogy hetek alatt megkaptam. Egy pár évig ez volt, aztán Skoda lett, aztán Lada, és az volt az utolsó autóm. Aztán eladtam, mert jött a nagy forgalom, és öregedtem, és mondtam, hogy nincs értelme kockáztatni. Pedig jó vezető voltam, de éppen azért. Végiggondoltam, és azt mondtam, hogy ilyen forgalomban, olyan figyelem kell… és akkor eladtam.

Amíg a gyerekek kicsik voltak, addig minden évben mentünk a Balatonra, Keszthelyre. Keszthelyen a szakszervezetnek volt egy háza, és akkor ott tudtunk lakni. Aztán később volt, amikor magánszemélytől béreltünk. Az 1970-es években már kevésbé volt anyagi problémám, mert… nem is a fizetés, mert a fizetés az nem volt valami nagy az egyetemen, hanem úgynevezett KK-munkákat csináltunk nagyon sokat, és abból szépen kerestünk. Ezért is tiszteltek engem a munkatársaim, mert mindig engedtem őket keresni, nem vettem el… magamnak csak azt a százalékot tartottam meg, ami a vezetőnek járt. A vállalatok elég sok ilyen KK munkát rendeltek, szépen kerestünk. Megvolt, hogy a vezetőnek, aki vezeti az egészet, annak 15 vagy 20 százalék jár. Persze én is dolgoztam, én vezettem, én csináltam meg végül a jelentést. Ők a részdolgokat csinálták… Én megelégedtem azzal, ami volt, nem szerettem happolni. Azt szerettem, ha a munkatársaim tisztességesen tudnak élni, nincsenek filléres gondjaik. Érdekes volt, hogy amikor nyugdíjba mentem, kijött a megállapítás, és láttam, hogy nem vették figyelembe a KK munkát. Pedig azután is befizettünk. Akkor bementem, szóltam, és több lett a nyugdíjam, mint az utolsó fizetésem.

Attól kezdve, hogy a gyerekek nagyok lettek, már nem nagyon mentünk nyaralni. Külföldön meg addig nem voltunk, amíg a gyerekek kicsik voltak. Például autóval voltunk a feleségemmel Párizsban egy barátomnál, aki meghívott bennünket. A gyerekeknek akkor már önálló programjuk volt. Én azért gyakran jártam külföldre a nemzetközi marketingszövetség konferenciáira, és volt úgy, hogy a feleségem velem jött. Például volt Jugoszláviában, Olaszországba is jött velem. Sőt akkor a lányom is jött, és aztán ők ketten elmentek Párizsba, én meg egyedül jöttem haza.

Amerikában és Kanadában nem voltunk, bár a gyerekek ott élnek, és sokszor hívtak már. De a feleségem nem akar repülőre ülni. (A feleség: Nem. Tizenhárom órát ülni. Most már szűkek az ülőhelyek, nem olyan kényelmesek a repülők, mint voltak. Évi is mindig panaszkodik, hogy alig tud lábra állni, mert olyan szűkre vannak csinálva a helyek, az ember nem tudja kinyújtani a lábát. Hiába hívnak a gyerekek, nem megyek. Ők jönnek ide.)

1966-ban voltam Izraelben. A nagynéném [Klein Nándorné (szül. Mittelmann Szerén)] és az unokatestvérem [Bauer Magda] meghívtak, és náluk voltam négy hétig. Voltam Jeruzsálemben, Tel-Avivban és Eilatban. Akkor már lehetett látogató útlevelet kérni. Egyedül mentem, a feleségem nem jött, és azóta többet nem voltam.

Amikor Izrael állam megalakult, nagyon örültem. Amikor 1967-ben volt a hatnapos háború, kezdettől fogva, természetesen, Izrael mellett álltam. Biztos voltam benne, hogy Izrael nem fogja hagyni magát, szóval hogy Izrael fölényben lesz ezzel a társasággal szemben. De meg kell mondanom, hogy az én társaságomban nem volt vita ezzel kapcsolatban. A pártszervezetben nem kértek nyilvános hitvallást. Fel se merült. Ugyanígy gondolkodtam a következő arab–izraeli háborúnál [lásd: Jom Kipur-i háború]. Én ismertem a történelmet, úgyhogy nem voltak kétségeim, hogy teljesen jogos, hogy Izrael azt a területet magának akarja, saját országot akar létesíteni.

Mi a feleségemmel egyáltalán nem tartjuk a vallást, de a gyerekeink mindig tudták, hogy zsidók, és zsidónak tartják magukat. A fiam nem volt körülmetélve, és az ő fia is csak azért, mert fitymaszűkülete volt. A vallást ők sem tartják.

Amikor Hitler hatalomra került, már úgyszólván felnőtt voltam. Nagyon figyeltem ezekre a dolgokra,  megvolt a véleményem, amit nem is nagyon rejtettem véka alá. Úgy fogalmaztam, hogy beleszülettem az első világháborúba. Ahogy egy kicsikét cseperedtem, volt a nagy világgazdasági válság, a húszas. Amikor kezdtem felnőni, jött a harmincas évek gazdasági válsága [lásd: az 1929-es gazdasági világválság]. Amikor pedig fiatalember lettem, és élhettem volna, akkor meg be kellett vonulni katonának. Szóval nem voltam kibékülve a rendszerrel. Nem tetszett nekem az egész Horthy-rendszer. Amikor Hitler uralomra került, teljesen tisztában voltam vele, hogy itt világuralmi törekvésekről van szó. És nagyon sajnáltam, hogy az angolok először lefeküdtek. Éreztem a veszélyt. És nem pusztán abból, hogy zsidó voltam, hanem, hogy az egész világ. Hogy miféle rendszer az, amit a hitleristák kiépítenek.
 

Salgó Tibor

Életrajz

Salgó úrral nem az otthonában, hanem egy ismerősöm műhelyében beszélgettünk. Először túlélési stratégiának gondoltam a tartózkodását, hogy nem a lakásán találkoztunk, és azt gondoltam, hogy Salgó úr óvatosságból kevesebbet vall be zsidóságából, zsidó vallásból, hagyományokból, mint amennyit megél, aztán kiderült, hogy hipotézisem elhamarkodott volt, saját elvárásaimba, elképzeléseimbe nem passzolt, amit tapasztaltam, hisz végül kiderült: Salgó úr tipikusan az az ember, aki származását tekintve ugyan zsidó, de élete, sorsa, kultúrája magyar. Salgó úrnak erős kötődése van  lakóhelyéhez, tősgyökeres XI. kerületinek vallja magát.

Többször említettem barátaimnak, hogy elég kalandos volt az életem. Elég színes, sokféle és én mindig azt szoktam mondani, hogy a jóisten velem volt. Mert a keresztútnál majdnem mindig a jó helyre kerültem. Szerencsém volt. Persze némi rátermettség és az egészségi állapot, ami rendkívül sokat jelentett.

Az apai nagyszülőket nem ismertem, egyetlen történetet tudok elmondani. Apuka mesélte, hogy itt voltak Pesten, és nem mertek átmenni a Dunán! Konflissal vitték át őket! Ennyit tudok csak róluk.

Az anyám szüleit én alig ismertem. Kivéve a nagymamát, aki ott lakott nálunk, őt Wagner Adolfnénak hívták, és az 1860-as években született Pozsonyban. Anyuka anyjának leánykori neve Frankfurter Lina volt. A nagymama tudott valamit magyarul, de ők főleg németül beszéltek. Rám ragadt a német nyelv őróla. Budapesten élt, és háztartásbeli volt. Hogy mennyire volt vallásos, arról nem tudok semmit, ővele csak játszottunk. Krétával rajzoltunk az asztalra, és akkor játszottunk. Ez olyan, mint minálunk a gyerekeknek a malom. A testvéreiről nem tudok semmit.

Itt lakott a Körtéren [Móricz Zsigmond körtér]. Aztán amikor legyengült, odaköltözött mihozzánk. Sose felejtem el, én játszottam a földön ilyen építőkockákkal, és a nagymama ült a fotelban. Lehettem 3-4 éves. Nézek oda, és a nagymama mozdulatlan. Ajjaj! Fogtam egy tükröt, és odaraktam a szája elé. Nem homályosult el! Kiszaladtam, „anyuka, azt hiszem, a nagymama meghalt!” Még nem jártam iskolába, ott játszottam a földön. Tényleg meghalt ott a fotelban. De kicsi voltam, nem emlékszem a temetésre. Azt sem tudom, hol a sírja, az sem biztos, hogy Rákoskeresztúron van [azaz: nem biztos, hogy a rákoskeresztúri zsidó temetőben van eltemetve].

Anyai nagypapámat Wagner Adolfnak hívták. Nem emlékszem, hogy mikor és hol született. Én nem ismertem. De annyit tudok róla, hogy valami vegyi dologgal, festékkel foglalkozhatott, és állítólag föltalált valami gyorsan száradó olajfestéket. Ezt hallottam. Volt egy üzeme. De látni nem láttam, mivel amikor én öntudatra ébredtem, akkor már nem élt. Annyit tudok, hogy nagymamával együtt itt laktak a Körtéren. Úgy 1915-ben halt meg körülbelül, mert én 1914-ben születtem.

Édesanyám 1884-ben született Budapesten. Wagner Aranka volt a leánykori neve.

Édesapám Mezőkövesden született az 1880-as években [Mezőkövesd – Borsod vm.-ben lévő nagyközség 1910-ben 17 200 lakossal (vallásfelekezet szerint 95% római katolikus, 4% izraelita). – A szerk.]. 1901-ben magyarosította a nevét, Salgóra. Az eredeti neve Sprerlinger volt. Hogy mi volt apuka legmagasabb végzettsége, arra nem emlékszem. De írni és olvasni jól tudott. Elég vallásos volt, a szülei rabbinak szánták, de végül nem lett rabbi, 13-14 éves korában elhagyta a szülői házat, és följött Budapestre. Akkoriban erősen kötődött a valláshoz, ragyogóan tudott héberül! Apuka úgy hadarta héberül a dolgokat! De nem lett rabbi, elsősorban kereskedelemmel foglalkozott A vallásosságát megtartotta az élete végéig, de nem lett rabbi. A testvérének az Üllői úton porcelánboltja volt. Én csak annyit tudok róla, hogy voltak testvérei, vagy nyolcan voltak, akik szintén kereskedők voltak. Rólunk a háború ledörzsölte [a gyakorló vallásosságot]. A bátyám Amerikában ugyanúgy nem tartotta a vallást, mint én. Nem azért, mert szégyellte, hanem más a társadalmi berendezkedés, más az élet.

Édesapám rendkívül udvarias belvárosi kereskedő volt, divatáruüzletben dolgozott. Olyan kereskedő volt, aki az ajtóban állt, ha jött egy vevő, annak köszönt, és megkérdezte tőle, mit óhajt. Odavezette a segédhez. Mikor elment, megkérdezte a vevőtől, megkapott-e mindent. Ha nem, akkor még visszavitte, hogy talán próbálja meg ezt vagy azt. Abban az időben volt divatos a Karády-gallér – ami egy ovális, széles nagy tüll vagy áttetsző anyagból készült, kicsit merev hosszúkás, ma úgy mondanánk, hogy sálgallér volt – meg turbán. Ő egy kimondott úri kereskedő volt. Azt tudom, hogy apuka mindig elegánsan ment a munkába is.

Apuka több üzletben dolgozott életében. Az első, amikor fiatal volt, az 1920-as években, a Herzfeld und Zöle üzlet volt a Kristóf téren. Utána az Salgó és Társa üzletben dolgozott a Deák Ferenc utcában az 1930-as években. A társnak volt a tőkéje, őneki a neve volt. Ez valami miatt megszűnt, akkor apuka elment állásba, és a Petőfi Sándor utcában egy textilüzletben lett üzletvezető.

Az édesapámmal a következő történt. Amikor a Deák Ferenc utcában volt az üzlet, arra ki volt írva: Salgó és Társa. 1919-ben, mikor kitört a kommunizmus [lásd: Tanácsköztársaság], a kirakatot, az üveget leragasztották ilyen plakáttal [Ez az üzlet – úgy tűnik – még nem a későbbi Salgó és Társa üzlet volt, ahol tehát az apa társtulajdonos volt, mert az az 1930-as években volt. De az is lehet, hogy az apa nem az 1930-as években, hanem korábban volt társtulajdonos a Deák Ferenc utcai üzletben. – A szerk.]. Szólt az inasnak, „Szedd le róla!” Leszedte. Nemsokára jött érte az akkori rendőrség, és faggatták: „Ki csinálta?” „Én!” – válaszolta. Elvitték. A Gellért Szállóba vitték, ott voltak akkor ezek a kommunisták. És apukának volt egy rokona, aki ugyan zsidó volt, de magas rangú katonaorvos, Dobó bácsinak hívták. És akkor rajta keresztül kihozatták onnan, nem lett vele semmi baj. Utána csinálta tovább a munkáját. Ennyit tudok arról a kommunizmusról.

Két bátyám volt, Gyuri és Imre. Hárman voltunk testvérek. Három fiú. Én voltam a legfiatalabb, Imi [1911–2001] a középső, Gyuri [1908–1994] a legidősebb, és pontosan 3-3 év volt a differencia.

Háztartásbeli volt az anyukám. Akkor volt még nekünk cselédlány segítségünk is. Fräulein Tildának hívták. Innen is van nekem a némettudásom. Körülbelül 10 éves lehettem, akkor apuka már elküldte. Anyagilag nem bírták. Gyuri bátyám jobban tudott németül, mint én. Mert őneki három évvel több ideje volt, mint nekem, hogy megtanuljon. Még annyit tudok mondani, hogy Tilda ide, a Ménesi útra, a kápolnába vitt fel minket, a három gyereket vasárnaponként. A szülőknek nem volt kifogása ellene, semmit nem szóltak, gyerekek voltunk, végighallgattuk a misét, ennyi. Az épület ma is megvan, ha itt egyenesen fölmegyünk, ott van a Ménesi úton.

Anyuka péntek este gyertyát gyújtott. Elmormolta, amit ilyenkor el kell mondani. Erre határozottan emlékszem gyerekkoromból. De nem volt téma a vallás nálunk. Amikor már apuka elkezdett dolgozni, akkor kevesebbet járt templomba. Nem volt ilyen péntek esti vagy szombati templomba járás. Nem tudok mást. Templomba anyuka nem járt, amíg fiatalok voltunk, addig apuka meg én jártam, meg ha jól tudom, Imi velünk volt. Ide, a Bocskai útra jártunk. Más ilyen zsidó kötődés nemigen volt. Az iskolában arra voltam mindig fogékony, hogy a hittantanár a hittanórákon elmesélte a történelmet. Bennem mint történelem – úgy fogant az Ótestamentum.

Apukával itt Budán a sós fürdőbe jártunk strandolni, az a Tétényi kórháznak a helyén volt. Nyári vakáció alkalmával anyuka meg a három gyerek minden évben más városban egy kis szobát béreltünk, és apuka hétvégén kijött hozzánk. Voltunk Budakeszin, aztán a másik évben Kismaroson, egyik évben Nagymaroson. Vagy Balatonlellén. Oda jött le hétvégén vonattal apuka. Nagyon családszerető volt.

Itt a környéken [XI. kerület] jártam elemibe az 1920-as években. Akkor olyan élet volt, hogy az elemiben voltak olyan gyerekek, akik mezítláb jöttek az iskolába. Nem volt pénzük cipőre. Később, amikor középiskolába jártam, történt egy rendkívül érdekes dolog, ami az életemet meghatározta. Az Eötvös József reáliskolába [lásd: gimnázium és egyéb középiskolák] jártam a Reáltanoda utcába, és talán negyedikes vagy ötödikes lehettem, mikor az iskolában megalakult a fúvószenekar. Imádtam a zenét, mert apám is dalos kedvű volt, anyám is, mind a ketten. Amikor a középiskolában megalakult a fúvószenekar, a kezembe nyomtak egy trombitát, B-trombitát, ami hangzásban ugyanaz, mint a modern zenében a piszton, aminek ugyanaz a fogása, csak ilyen pedáljai vannak. Az iskolának volt a 25. éves jubileuma, valamikor az 1930-as évek elején. Akkor volt egy hangverseny a Vigadóban, és akkor már volt az iskolának egy szimfonikus zenekara is. 27-en voltunk a zenekarban. Magára a műsorra nem emlékszem. A nézőtéren az első sorban ott ült a világhíres Hubay Jenő [Hubay Jenő (1858–1937), hegedűművész, zeneszerző, pedagógus, a brüsszeli konzervatórium és a budapesti Zeneakadémia tanára, 1919–1934 között igazgatója. Kora egyik legnagyobb előadóművésze volt. – A szerk.]. A karmesterünk az Operaháznak volt a karmestere, és ő az Operából hozott erősítést a zenekarba. Emlékszem, egy fuvolást, mert az utolsó szám volt az egyveleg a „János vitéz”-ből [Kacsóh Pongrác daljátéka], rézfúvósokra volt írva, ketten voltunk trombitások. Én voltam az első trombitás, nekem kellett trombitán játszani a „Kukorica dal”-t, azt hogy „Kukorica közt születtem…”.

Életemben egyszer náspángoltak el, sose felejtem el! Srácok voltunk, és egyszer csak megjelentünk otthon, az arcunk ki volt festve díszfestékkel. Hát apuka látta, hogy Gyuri, az idősebbik bátyám, az csinálta a cirkuszt velünk, ő festett ki mindannyiunkat. Apuka a térdére fektetett és elfenekelt mind a hármunkat. Én lehettem talán három éves, így emlékszem. Jól neveltek. Nem szigorúsággal, inkább – azt hiszem – törődéssel. Jó család voltunk.

A zsidó nevem elfelejtettem, de volt bár micvám. Bár micvá azt jelentette, hogy 13 éves lettem. Akkor még nem volt meg a Bocskai úti templom [zsinagóga]. Hanem az Öntőház utcai templomban volt a bár micvá, amire fölkészítettek. Abszolút süket voltam én a héberre, de megtanítottak [azaz: megtanították arra, hogy mit kell tennie a szertartás alatt].

A háború [azaz a második világháború] előtt diákok voltunk. A középső bátyám, Imre technikumba járt a Népszínház utcába [A Népszínház u. 8. szám alatt működő Magyar Királyi Állami Felső Ipariskoláról van szó. Technikumok akkor még nem léteztek. Lásd: ipariskolák]. Az akkor olyan volt, olyan szinten emelt, mint az egyetem. Délelőtt és délután is volt iskola. A bátyámnak olyan kézügyessége, olyan feje volt, hogy egyetemisták jöttek hozzá, és pénz ellenében éjszaka rajzolt nekik ilyen műszaki rajzot pauszpapírra.

Az idősebbik bátyám, Gyuri a háború előtt tisztviselő volt Újpesten egy Reiss és Brett nevezetű nadrágtartó készítő üzemben. A középső bátyám, Imre itt dolgozott a Fehérvári úton az Ericsson gyárban [A svéd Ericsson cég az első világháború előtt alapított először Budapesten leányvállalatot, amelyet az 1920-as évek végén – tisztázatlan körülmények között – átvett az International Standard Electric Corporation érdekeltségi körébe tartozó Standard Elektromossági Vállalat. (Ebből lett a második világháborút követő államosítások után a BHG – a Beloiannisz Híradástechnikai Gyár.) – A szerk.] mint mérnök. Ő technológiát végzett, és ott volt főmérnök. 1939-ben év elején jöttek a különböző zsidómegszorítások [lásd: zsidótörvények Magyarországon]. Én akkor katona voltam, édesanyám mesélte Imiről: a svéd igazgató [?] behívta a négy zsidó mérnököt: „Uraim, kaptam egy olyan utasítást a kormánytól, hogy a zsidó mérnökök közül, akik négyen vannak, kettőt el kell bocsátani. Akkor maga meg Balázs.” A bátyám akkor legényember volt, azt mondja, „Őt ne tessék elküldeni, két gyereke van! Én nőtlen vagyok, engem tessék kirúgni!” És ketten elmentek. A bátyám nagyon jóképű gyerek volt, azt tudom, mert a lányok mindig nálam érdeklődtek iránta. Összehozták őt egy nővel, aki Amerikából azért volt itt, hogy férjet vigyen magával ki Amerikába. Hát a bátyámat, úgy látszik, összehozták evvel az amerikai [nem zsidó származású] nővel. A bátyám a kiutazási engedélyt rá egy félévre kapta meg, 1939-ben, olyan december környékén, az utolsó hajóval ment el Amerikába, mert utána a tengeralattjárók miatt már veszélyes volt az óceán. De ő még éppen kijutott.

A fivérem ennek a nőnek a kénye-kedvére volt kiszolgáltatva. Bár tudott angolul, de az az angol, ami itt Magyarországon ragyogó jó volt, az ott kint elég silány lehetett, ahogy én következtettem. És az én bátyámat ez a nő szinte bezárta a lakásba. Nem engedte ki! A fivérem egy fél évig bírta, utána megszökött tőle, 10 dollárral a zsebében. Az egyik aluljáróban összeakadt négerekkel, és adtak neki tippet. Fölhívott egypár budapesti ismerőst, az egyiknek volt egy áruházlánca és egy boyszolgálata. Jól van, gyere hozzám. Elment oda, ez New Yorkban volt. Otthagyta a feleségét, megszökött tőle. Fölvették trógernak. Ilyen az élet! Érdekes, négerekkel együtt tróger volt, tolta a bútorokat, egyebet. A néger kérdezte tőle: „Magának nincsen szakmája? Hogy létezik ez? Mért nem megy el ide-oda? Van állásközvetítő!” Elment egy állásközvetítő irodába. Az állásközvetítő iroda kiközvetítette egy gyárba. Megkérdezték, mi a szakmája. Mondta, hogy mérnök. Elment a gyárba, azt mondták, oké! Adtak neki egy feladatot. Tudja mi az, hogy dodekaéder? Az egy olyan test, aminek millió oldala van [Tizenkét lapú szabályos test. – A szerk.]. Ha ezt meg tudja szerkeszteni, adok egy hetet, jöjjön vissza, felvesszük! A fivéremnek nem sok pénze volt, egész éjjel dolgozott, másnap elvitte, föl is vették! Hogy ez fegyvergyár vagy hadigyár volt, nem tudom. De egy év után száz mérnök volt a keze alatt. Ő közben kint elvégezte a Columbia Egyetemet, ami New Yorkban van. Az ő életéről annyit, hogy tíz évig élt New Yorkban, megismerkedett egy nővel, de nem tudott elválni a feleségétől. Elköltöztek Renóba, ami Nevada államban van, és ott sikerült elválnia, és feleségül vette azt Mariont, akivel ötven évig éltek együtt. Nem tudom, miért nem lett gyermekük. A feleség egy angol születésű amerikai nő volt, aki magyarul nem tudott. De azért valamit megértett. Az Imi Renóban kapott egy állást, ha jól tudom, mi úgy mondanánk, a tanácsnál vagy elöljáróságnál mint mérnök. Hosszú ideig, 1947-től ott élt egészen 2001-ig. Most három éve halt meg, 2004-et írunk, tehát meghalt 2001-ben, 90 éves korában. A névjegyen az van írva, hogy vice-president [alelnök – a szerk.], tehát nem volt biznisz ebben, ő örökké csak mérnöki dologgal foglalkozott. Az összes beadott műszaki újításokat neki kellett ellenőriznie. Szóval ez egy hihetetlen nagy felelősségű munka volt. Imre ott kint az egyik szabadkőműves páholy [lásd: szabadkőművesség] tagja lett.

Az idősebbik bátyámról kevesebbet tudok, mert gyerekkorban a hat év nagy idő. Gyurinak csak polgárija [lásd: polgári iskola] volt. Azt tudom, hogy az idősebbik bátyám 18 éves korában udvarolt a feleségének, Rózsikának, akit holtáig szeretett. De úgy, hogy még idős korukban is kéz a kézben jártak az utcán. Őnekik van egy lányuk, Évike, ma már 65 éves, nyugdíjas, 1939-ben született. Olyan szíve van, a bátyám a feleségével együtt zsidó volt, de kereszténynek nevelték a kislányt. Gyuri bátyám különösen nagy fotós volt. Készített diafilmeket, és rengeteg videó van.

A háború alatt gettóban volt a család. Gyuri munkaszolgálaton volt. Aztán később, 1942-ben bujkált. Azt is tudom, hogy a Körtéren volt egy cukrászda, annak a főnöke keresztény volt, azok bujtatták. A gettóban, nem tudom, hogyan, de mint orvos működött. Nyilván a Gyuri tanult az iskolában egészségügyet, akin lehetett, segített, ott mint orvos működött [Nyilván felcser vagy ápoló volt az orvos mellett. – A szerk.], a felesége is ott volt az én drága jó anyámmal együtt. Előtte anyukám csillagos házba került, a Sütő utca 2-be. A Sütő utca 2-ből került a gettóba, és ővele volt a bátyám kislánya egészen a felszabadulásig.

Az Évike férje is keresztény. A gyerekek, az unokák mind keresztények. A kapcsolat szoros, az unokahúgom és a férje meg mi közöttünk. Tényleg olyan nincs, hogy ők nem zsidók, és mi zsidók vagyunk. A férje a VILATI-nál volt mérnök, elvégezte a villamostechnikai főiskolát.

Én tősgyökeres XI. kerületinek vallom magam. Itt van az a ház [a Móricz Zsigmond körtéren. – A szerk.], ahol én gyerekként a szüleimmel laktam. A Körtéren rét volt. Mi itt fociztunk, gyerekek, csak később tudtam meg, mikor már jött be ez a hitleráj, hogy ezek a barátaim nem voltak zsidók, hanem keresztények voltak. Ki törődött azzal, hogy az milyen vallású? Nem, nem! Hanem ott rúgtuk a labdát, ott labdáztunk, fociztunk. Én még arra emlékszem, hogy mint kisgyereknek fekete hajam volt, és kreol voltam. Engem mindig azzal idegesítettek, hogy itt a Fehérvári úton, ahogy jöttek be ilyen ekhós szekérrel a cigányok, „T. menjél haza, mert téged el fognak vinni a cigányok!”. Rohantam be a kapuba, szemben volt a lakás. Hát igen, akkor ekhós szekérrel jöttek be, és jöttek annak idején a milimárik. Budapest környéke mind sváb falu volt, és onnan hozták a tejet, a vajat a milimárik. A milimárinak a hátán volt egy ilyen zsákja [Milimári a főváros környéki falvakból a budapesti piacokra tejet, tejterméket hozó asszonyok elnevezése (tejesasszony, tejeskofa). Vesszőből font puttonyszerű kosarat kötöttek kendővel a hátukra. – A szerk.], abban volt a tej, a túró, a vaj, és azzal jöttek ide be, itt a sarkon, a Fehérvári út sarkán volt a vám. Házról házra jártak.

Télen ródliztunk. A Gellért-hegyről jöttünk le ródlival egész a Feneketlen tóig. A Villányi úton nem járt akkor még villamos. Itt volt a teniszpálya, ide jártam korcsolyázni. A Kanizsai utcában lakik egy velem egykorú hölgy, ha találkozom vele, mindig mondja, „T., nem megyünk korcsolyázni?”. Együtt korcsolyáztunk még annak idején. Indultam táncversenyen, és sose felejtem el, volt álarcosbál is. Abban az időben volt a „Z, a fekete lovas” című film. Hát, én annak öltözködtem! Fél szemem volt. Jó! Nem volt még semmi megkülönböztetés! [Zsidók és nem zsidók között. – A szerk.] Udvaroltam egy lánynak, lehettem talán 13-14 éves. A kislányt és a testvérét a mama kísérte. A többiek irigységükben azt mondták nekem, hogy liliomtipró vagyok. Én nem tudtam, mit jelent ez. Néni, kérem, azt mondták nekem kint a fiúk, hogy liliomtipró vagyok! Jó kellemetlen helyzetbe hoztak! Tagja voltam egy ifjúsági szervezetnek. A nevére nem emlékszem már. Volt itt a Váli utcában egy épület, valószínűleg a zsidóké lehetett. Ez egy cionista szervezet volt. Táncoltunk, énekeltünk, sőt színdarabot is adtunk elő. Emlékszem, egy öreg zsidót kellett alakítanom – mivel olyan hangom volt – az Egyiptomi kivonulásban. Ez a színdarab ma is megállná a helyét, énekeltem, hogy „Öreg zsidó ősz fedetlen fővel…”. Nekem viszonylag jó hangom volt, szerettem volna operaénekes is lenni. Tanultam is egy darabig énekelni.

17 éves koromban apám vett Érden egy telket, ott vagyunk, mi, hárman fiúk lefényképezve. Faházzal vettük, az erdőben volt már szinte. Ott ettünk gyümölcsöt. Egy nap, egy hétfői nap, mert általában hétvégén mentünk ki, anyám megy az utcán, és találkozik a barátnőjével. „Te nem tudod, hogy a fiad otthon fekszik 40 fokos lázzal?” „Nem.” Szalad anyuka haza. Ott feküdtem 40 fokos lázzal, azonnal hívták az orvost. Megállapították, hogy hastífuszom van. A hastífusz ragályos betegség. Anyuka nem engedte, hogy elvigyenek a kórházba, a háromszobás lakásunkra kirakták a vörös cédulát, hogy fertőző beteg van a lakásban, nem szabad bemenni. Elkülönített szobában voltunk, anyuka meg én. Senki a családból nem aludt ott, nem is jött be hozzám, ő ápolt engemet. Túléltem.

Egy egyszerű dolgot tudok előadni, ami nem annyira kötődik a valláshoz, mint sajnos a származáshoz. Engem nemcsak az elemiben, hanem a középiskolában is a Hiszekegyre tanítottak [„Hiszek egy Istenben” – Természetesen nem az „Apostoli Hitvallás” nevet viselő, több évszázados, keresztény imáról („Hiszekegy” /Credo/) van szó, amely szintén ezekkel a szavakkal kezdődött, hanem az ún. „Magyar Hiszekegy”-ről. 1920-ban a Védő Ligák Szövetsége pályázatot írt ki olyan ima/fohász szövegére, ill. jelmondat megfogalmazására, amely alkalmas „a revans eszméjének ébrentartására”. A pályázatot a Felvidék egy „elszakadt leánya”, Papp-Váry Elemérné Sziklay Szeréna – apja egykor Gömör vm. főispánja volt – nyerte. A két világháború között alig volt olyan hivatalos rendezvény, ahol el nem hangzott volna a „Magyar Hiszekegy”, sőt az iskolák egy részében is naponta elmondták közösen, a tanítás megkezdése előtt, persze nem mind a 15 szakaszt, hanem csak az elsőt, ami egyben az utolsó is: „Hiszek egy Istenben, hiszek egy hazában:/ Hiszek egy isteni örök igazságban, /Hiszek Magyarország feltámadásában.”. – A szerk.]. Belénk nevelték azt, hogy mi magyarok vagyunk. Én nem láttam diszkriminációt az én fiatalkoromban, sem a katonaságnál, se másutt, kivéve a háborús időket. Bennünket a Hiszekeggyel neveltek föl, ez a magyarság… Olyan beszédeket hallottam, hogy a könny kicsordult a szememből. Én annyira magyarnak éreztem magamat, és ma is az vagyok. Nekem az az érzésem, hogy én zsidó vallású magyar vagyok! Én ezért a hazáért megdolgoztam, és ha lehetett, ha szükség volt rá, én mindig magyarnak vallottam magamat. A Radnóti Zoltán rabbi kérdezte, mi az én zsidó nevem. Mondtam, nem tudom. Én igaz, reáliskolába jártam, volt hittanóra, de én nem tudok héberül olvasni, imádkozni is csak egy pár mondatot tudok. Belénk mást neveltek. De istenfélőnek vallom magam! Zsidó a hitem, de magyar vagyok.

Mikor vége lett az iskolának, utána lettem segéd, utána 1939-ben behívtak ide, a Károly laktanyába [a mai, a Budaörsi úti található Petőfi-laktanya – A szerk.]. 1939-től 1940 őszéig voltam katona a Károly laktanyában, Budapesten, a nem tudom, hányas számú gyalogezredben. De az erdélyi bevonuláskor, a 32. honvéd gyalogezreddel mentünk, arra határozottan emlékszem [lásd: második bécsi döntés].

Behívtak tényleges szolgálatra. Bevonultunk. Karpaszományos [Karpaszományt azok az érettségivel rendelkező katonák viseltek, akiket behívtak tényleges katonai szolgálatra, és tartalékos tiszti kiképzésben részesültek. – A szerk.] voltam a században, öten voltunk karpaszományosok, az ötből kettő zsidó, három keresztény. A katonaságról még el akarom mondani, hogy mint karpaszományosok megkülönböztetett elbánásban voltunk akkor is, de akkor még nem volt megkülönböztetés, hogy zsidó vagy nem zsidó. Csak miután letelt a kiképzési idő, öt hónap, a karpaszományosokat elvitték tiszti iskolára. Ez 1939-ben volt. Igen ám, de akkor már kettőnket, a két zsidó karpaszományost nem vitték el tiszti iskolára, csak a három másikat, akik keresztények voltak. De utána sem volt semmi probléma. Minekünk, karpaszományosoknak nem kellett vécét meg folyosót mosni. De a fegyelemre ott megtanítottak. Csak egy példát mondok. Minden ágy fölött volt egy polc. A polcon volt a katonának a fölszerelése, mert volt egy gyakorló-, és volt egy kimenőruhánk. A kimenőruhában kellett menni őrségbe. Jártunk föl a Várba, őrségbe, akkor ott abban kellett lenni. Úgy kellett a polcon lennie, mint egy doboznak. Ha az nem volt úgy, akkor jött a tiszt, egyből lesöpörte. Akár éjjel, akár nappal. Egyszer engem a kapuból visszaküldtek, jövök kimenőre, szombaton lehetett kimenni, ugrásra laktam a laktanyától, visszazavartak: „Az önkéntes úrnak nem tiszta a fehér kesztyűje!” Fehér kesztyű kellett, fekete nadrág, zubbony. Jó, nekem volt még a zsebemben egy másik pár kesztyű, azzal mentem le, és ezzel kimentem. Megtanított arra, hogy igenis, és ez már az ember belső habitusából adódik, hogy tiszteletet adjak a nálam magasabb korú, vagyis magasabb tudású embernek.

1940-ben volt az erdélyi bevonulás. Visszakaptuk Erdélyt! Én magammal vittem a trombitámat annak ellenére, hogy abban az időben a századkürtös az csak a honvédek közül lehetett. Én mint karpaszományos, ha nem is fújtam, de ismertem a kürtjeleket. Szakaszparancsnok voltam, sose felejtem el. Az első nagy falu Szilágynagyfalu volt. Ott telepedett le a század. Akkor átalakultunk, mentünk Erdélybe, 32-es honvéd gyalogezred volt a neve. A Fő téren, ahogy összegyűltünk, mi, magyar katonák, tartottak egy olyan előadást, kicsordult a szememből a könny. Annyira éreztem a hazafiságot, visszakaptuk Erdélyt. Tudták, hogy nálam van a trombita, és megkértek engemet, hogy ne a kürtös, hanem én fújjam a takarodót. És én pisztonnal elfújtam a takarodót. Másnap jöttek hozzám, érdeklődtek utánam, ki fújta a takarodót, mert ilyet még életükben nem hallottak. Persze a pisztonon másképpen hallatszik a takarodó, mint egy katonai kürtön.

Miután leszereltem, 1942-ig éltem a polgári életet, nem érdekes különösebben. 1941-ben apuka egy hónap alatt meghalt, 61 évesen itt, a lakásunkban. Szerencsére, mert így legalább nem élte át a fasizmust. Itt már kezelték a szívével, és azt is állapították meg, ha jól tudom, szívkoszorú! Ma már azt mondják erre, ami nekem is volt: szívinfarktus. Apuka a rákoskeresztúri zsidó temetőben van eltemetve. Nem emlékszem, hogy milyen volt a temetés.

1941-ben ott dolgoztam, ahol ő társként dolgozott korábban, üzletvezetőként a Belvárosban. Az ő helyére bekerültem. Abban az időben itt, Budán, a Váli utca sarkán, ahol laktunk, a fürdőszobában öntött vaskályha volt. Az üzleti levelezéssel fűtöttek be minden reggel. Hogy az apukámnak legyen egy kis meleg vize, ha mosakszik. Abban az időben ez volt, nem tudtuk őrizgetni a papírokat.

Bevonultam munkaszolgálatra Domonyba, 1942 márciusában. Domony Aszód mellett van, ott voltunk talán egy hétig. A trombita mentette meg az életemet! Meg fogja hallani! El nem felejtem, a körletparancsnokhoz odamentem, „Kérem, én ismerem az összes kürtjeleket. Nekem van otthon egy pisztonom, hazamehetek?” „Egy frászt! Hozasd be!” Édesanyám behozta. Eljött a bevagonírozás ideje, Aszódon volt a bevagonírozás, az a búcsúztatás, ami volt, azt meg lehet írni! Egy százados – ragyogó lakkcsizmában, ragyogó eleganciával – fölsorakoztatta a zsidókat. „Rohadt, büdös zsidók! Ti most mentek ki, Oroszországba! Rohadt dögök! Ti ide, ebbe az országba élve már nem kerültök haza!” Ezekkel a szavakkal. És közben a lovaglópálcájával büszkén, mint az akkori dzsentrik, csapkodta a csizmáját. Utána elrendelték a hipist [jiddis: ’keresés’], ez egy kifejezés, amit használtak a motozásra. Mindent ki kellett rakni! Pénzt, cigarettát, mindent elvettek. Be a vagonokba! Zsúfolva, egy vagonba nem tudom, hány ember került be. Marhavagonba persze. Elindul a vonat, egyszer csak valahol megállunk, és a keretlegénységből egy megy végig a vagonon. Hol a kürtös? Hol a kürtös? Engem kivettek, és beraktak egy harmadosztályú vagonba, ahol a keretlegénység volt. És én emlékszem, abban az időben az ilyen harmadosztályú vagonban a csomagtartó ilyen élére állított deszka volt, én abban ágyaztam meg, és fönt aludtam, mert tudtam, hogy ott nem fázom meg. A lényeg az, hogyha reggel megállt a vonat, nekem kellett trombitával fújni a sorakozót. Utána megérkeztünk Ukrajnába, a nevét már nem tudom annak a helységnek. Ukrajnában megálltunk, kiszállítottak, volt egy erdőség, ott mindenkinek a földön kellett aludni. De még egy szerencsés dolgot kell elmondani! Ezt a fölsorakozott ezredet kettéosztották. A fele került egy Gecső nevezetű századosnak, egy velejéig romlott gazembernek a kezébe, és az én századom pedig egy másikhoz. Egy Emberhez! [Különös nyomatékkal ejtette ezt a szót, evvel hangsúlyozta az említett személy emberségét. – A szerk.] Erre mondtam, hogy az életem szerencsés, fej vagy írás! Volt egy barátom, a Jakab Laci, azt hiszem, már nem él. Ketten egy bokorban feküdtünk, nekem volt jó viharkabátom, a fejem fölé kiraktuk, azt tettük a fejünk fölé, mert néha esett az eső. Ilyen földbe vájt mit tudom én, min feküdtünk. Aztán elkezdtünk gyalogolni.

Gyalogoltunk, a század ment, konyha volt velünk, kegyetlenség nem volt. Kurszkon keresztül egészen elmentünk Sztarij Oszkolig [Város, Ukrajna és Oroszország határán, 100 km-re Kurszktól. – A szerk.]. Legmesszebb itt voltunk. Fél évig itt voltam. Ez volt a végállomás. Innen már visszafelé jöttünk. Ez körülbelül Dontól lehetett, a doni fronttól olyan 50 vagy 100 kilométerre. Kijeven keresztül mentünk, arra gyalogoltunk, és ott letelepedtünk. És megint csak szerencsém volt. A keretlegénység tudta azt, hogy én katona voltam azelőtt. Előléptettek ott a keretlegénységből őrmesterré hármat. És azoknak a fegyverzetük revolver volt. Nem értettek hozzá. Elkezdtem a revolvert szétszerelni, megpucolni, kezelni.

Az egyik őrmester ember volt! A nevét is megmondom, Hanzrik, a keresztnevére már nem emlékszem. Egyébként úgy hallottam, Újpesten volt segéd-házfelügyelő, de ember volt. És hogy mennyire ember volt, azt megmutatta a későbbiekben. Maga mellé vett engemet csicskásnak. Az olyan, mint a tisztiszolga. Sztarij Oszkolban, hogy a század letelepedett, reggeli sorakozókor nekem bent kellett maradnom az őrmesterem szállásán, neki készíteni ebédet. És a fölsorakozás után kettéosztották a felét a németeknek, felét a magyaroknak dolgozni, mert Sztarij Oszkol volt a 2. honvéd gyalogezred ellátója. Az ellátó alatt azt kell érteni, hogy ott voltak a csizmák, bakancsok, kaja, minden, ami a hadseregnek kell, kinn a Donnál lévő hadseregnek az ellátásához. A fiúk mindig jöttek hozzám, én voltam a hírközpont. „Ne szarjatok be, gyerekek, haza fogunk menni élve!” Kimentek a raktárba dolgozni. Álljanak félre, akik a németekhez tartoznak és akik a magyarokhoz. Kettévágták a csapatot, ezek a magyarhoz, ezek a némethez. Mindenki a németekhez akart menni, mert a németek azt mondták: „Itt van két vagon, kirakjátok, utána leülhettek!” A magyar azt mondta: „Két vagont kirakni, aztán söpörni, pakolni…!” A magyaroknál nem volt pihenés, mindig találtak valami elfoglaltságot. A magyar ellátónak volt az a raktára, ahol a fiúk dolgoztak. És oda érkeztek be vagonok, azokat kellett kirakni vagy berakni.

Sztarij Oszkolban én egy orosz családnál voltam elszállásolva. Egy néni volt, volt egy talán 13 éves kislánya meg egy talán 10 éves fia. Ott laktunk mi, az őrmester meg én, az volt a szállásunk. Fél évig laktunk ott. Nagyon jól összebarátkoztunk. Én mindennel elláttam őket. Mi dolgoztunk az ellátóban, senki nem tudott a háború állásáról. Egyszer csak megjelent egy magyar katona, sapka és fegyver nélkül, üvöltve. Jönnek az oroszok, jönnek az oroszok! A nő, mikor mondták, hogy „Vigyázzatok, itt áttörték a Dont, jönnek az oroszok!”, azt mondja nekem – Borisznak hívott –, „Téged eldugunk”. Vett nekem egy rubáskát [orosz: ing]. Aminek oldalt van a gombja, magas nyaka van. Azt mondja: „Ellátunk téged mindennel, maradj itt! Semmi bajod nem lesz! Mondom, sajnos az édesanyám Budapesten vár engemet, muszáj elmenni”. Hát a század persze összecsomagolt, és másnap elindultunk visszafelé. Gyalog persze. A drága magyar okosaink az ellátó raktárát visszavonuláskor „elfelejtették” kiosztani, fölgyújtották az egészet. Olyan kemény tél volt, legalább volt 20 vagy 30 fok. Tiszta hó volt minden. Persze gyalog, a honvédek szekérrel, mert volt a tábornak szekere. És én pedig vigyáztam az őrmesteremnek a szajréjára, amit szedett össze, ilyen szamovárok, amiket becsomagolt. Egy szekérre tette fel, egy ló, egy fiú meg én mentünk ezzel, hazafelé az úton ezen a szekéren ketten voltunk Jakab Lacival. A magyar katonák egy kicsit féltek, mert hallották, hogy a brjanszki erdőben, ahol vonult vissza a sereg és mi, a munkaszolgálatosok [Brjanszkot 1941 őszén elfoglalták a német csapatok. A város körüli erdőkben 1943-ig jelentős partizánközpont volt. – A szerk.], ott rengeteg a partizán. Mivel tudták, hogy én voltam katona, adtak egy őrmesteri zubbonyt, hogy vegyem föl, hogyha netán a partizánok megtámadnak, akkor ne a tiszteknek legyen baja. Inkább engem támadjanak meg [A honvédelmi minisztérium 1942 márciusában adott ki rendeletet arról, hogy a zsidó munkaszolgálatosoknak a saját polgári ruházatukat kell viselni, és erre sárga karszalagot kell varrni, de sok alakulatnál már 1941 végétől elvették a zsidóktól az egyenruhát. (R. L. Braham: A népirtás politikája. A holokauszt Magyarországon. Budapest, Új Mandátum Könyvkiadó, 2003, 31. old.) A visszavonuló sereg a tisztjeit úgy védte, hogy munkaszolgálatosokat öltöztettek katonai ruhába. – A szerk.].

Elindult a visszavonulás. Mikor az [oroszok] áttörték a német frontvonalat, visszafele vonultunk a hóban a szekérrel, ami az őrmesteré volt. Azt mondtam mindig, én ezt túlélem, ebben biztos voltam! És amikor a szekér mellett a barátom ült a kocsin, én mindig direkt gyalog mentem mellette, csak gyalog. Jó kondícióban voltam, nem volt baj, hogy gyalogoltam. Jellemző egy mentalitás, hogy milyen emberek léteznek. A század utolért bennünket. Én őrmesteri egyenruhában voltam, a barátom pedig fönn a bakon ült mint kocsis. Az egyik magyar, nem tudom, milyen rangú katona, azt hitte, tiszt vagyok: „Mondd, bajtárs, mért hagyod ott azt a büdös zsidót a szekéren ülni?” „Majd hülye leszek oda ülni!” – válaszoltam, hisz a mozgás kicsit melegen tartott. Mentek tovább! Ilyen emberek is léteznek. Miért, a zsidó nem olyan ember, mint a másik? Én a mai napig nem tudom megkülönböztetni, hogy egy magyar, egy horvát, egy szerb!

Később az út mentén láttam megfagyott embereket. A szél volt a legrosszabb. Nem volt játék az a menet. Oroszországnak az a része, ami az Ural és Európa között volt, tulajdonképpen síkság. Az oroszok a városokat hegyre építették. Zsitomir és Berdicsev [városok Ukrajnában] mellett jöttünk hazafelé. Megyünk a századdal, rendes lépésben igyekeztek, az én lovam meg legyengült, mert nem tudtunk mit adni neki, úgyhogy mi lemaradtunk a századtól. Az őrmester a századdal volt akkor, neki ott volt a helye. Eltűnt a század. Ketten maradtunk, a Jakab Lacival. Igen ám, de a ló néha össze akart esni. Isten bizony, nem tudom, mit szólna egy gazda hozzá, fogtam a ló lábát és kiegyenlítettem! Megyünk, mendegélünk, lépésben. Elérkezünk egy faluhoz. Még azt kell mondanom, hogy útközben találkoztunk egy-egy orosz paraszttal. Kint megtanultam oroszul. Nem grammatikailag, de rengeteg orosz szót! Kérdeztem az orosztól: „Hány kilométer a szomszéd falu?” Az a három-négy kilométer azt jelentette, hogy estére odaérünk. Tényleg, egy lakott terület, egy ház is volt, lakatlan, bementünk. A lovat is bevittük a házba. A ló összeesett, nem tudtunk enni adni neki. Szedtünk valamit össze, kicsit lábra állítottuk, reggel elindulnánk. Kijöttünk a házból. Csak hó. Magas, majdnem térdig érő, és főleg hideg volt. Törtük a fejünket. Merre mehettek? Magyarország innen nyugatra van, néztük a nap állását, elindultunk nyugat felé. Ott nem volt út, ami igazított volna, semmi. Egy napi gyaloglás után elérkezünk egy helyre. Megkerestem a tarosztát [sztaroszta, orosz: falusi elöljáró, bíró], az a falunak a polgármestere. Mondom neki, nekem van egy egészséges lovam, csak éhes. Szeretném kicserélni. Azt mondja, lehetne, de a németek mindent elvittek. Várjon csak, a péknél van egy rühes ló. Mondom, nekem az is jó! Megkaptuk a rühes lovat, azzal mentünk tovább, és otthagytuk neki azt a lovat. Mentünk tovább, és egyszer csak utolértük a századot. Azok megálltak pihenni valahol. Nem volt kajánk, ők vitték magukkal az élelmet. Amikor utolértük a századot, onnantól velük gyalogoltunk, gyalogoltunk, egészen Kurszkon keresztül, Zsitomir, Berdicsev, Ivnya [?], Szumi, Tarnopol [ma: Ternopil] [városok Ukrajnában] – ezek a nevek megmaradtak a fejemben, ezek a helységek, hogy milyen sorrendben volt, nem tudom, de ezeken mentünk keresztül. Sose felejtem el, Kurszkon megyünk keresztül, mi gondja volt egy magyar katonatisztnek? Megállította a bakát, aki nem tisztelgett neki rendesen. Megigazította a zubbonyának a gombját, nincs rendesen! Ilyenen járt az esze akkor, amikor a Donnál meg estek el az emberek. Mentünk Kurszkon túl gyalog tovább Ukrajnába, [Sztarij] Uzsicára [a Dnyeszter és a Uzsica folyók találkozásának közén található település – A szerk.]. Itt telepedett le a tábor, a század. Mentünk legalább egy hétig, mentünk, mentünk, és menet közben én az őrmesternek mindig szereztem szállást. Nekem volt egy elgondolásom, mert tudtam azt, hogy rengeteg a tetű, és az élet alfája meg ómegája ott kint a tetű. Minden parasztházban volt olyan veranda, csukott veranda, ami szögletes. Ott aludtunk a fapadon, mert azt le tudtam tisztítani. A parasztok meg a piecskán [orosz: kemence], ami nálunk a búboskemence mellett lévő rész, azok ott aludtak. Legalább harminc helyen szálltunk meg az egy hónap alatt. Mert az egyik falutól a másik faluig volt 15–20 kilométer. Az reggeltől estig tartott körülbelül, míg megtettük. Az út szélén mindig ott feküdtek lovak. Érdekes, az ember jobban bírta a fáradságot és a nélkülözést, mint a lovak. Lovakat nagyon sokat lehetett látni elhullani, embereket kevesebbet.

Jólelkű, egyszerű, jószívű emberek az orosz parasztok, én sose felejtem el. Egyik helyen kérdezgettem a háziasszonyt, az öregasszonyt, hogy éltek, mint éltek. Két gyereke volt, elvitték a németek Németországba dolgozni. Mondom, nekem meg rettenetesen fáj a gyomrom. Azt mondja: „Gyere!” Kivitt a kertbe, leszakított egy fokhagymát, egyed meg! Megettem a fokhagymát, öt percen belül megszűnt a gyomorfájásom. Sajnálni való szegény emberek voltak, mint általában a falusiak. Különösen, mikor mondtam, hogy én munkaszolgálatos vagyok. [Hanzrik őrmester részéről] nem volt semmi megkülönböztetés. Semmiféle zsidózás vagy megaláztatás vagy ilyesmi nem volt. Szigorú fegyelmet tartott, ezt meg kellett szokni.

Mindenütt kivétel nélkül nem ellenségesség, hanem a jóindulat tükröződött a parasztoktól. Ők mondták meg, hova feküdhetek. Az egyik orosz nőnek elmeséltem, hogy annak ellenére, hogy én katonaruhában vagyok, én egy zsidó munkaszolgálatos vagyok. És azt mondja, őneki is vannak gyerekei, a németek elvitték, és nagyon sajnál bennünket.

[Sztarij] Uzsicán a századot elszállásolták egy iskolába. Igen ám, de én akkor már kocsis voltam. És volt a századnak öt kocsija, mi jártunk élelmiszerszerzésre a hadtáphoz, ahol fölvettük az élelmet, és vittük a táborba. Mi megállapodtunk abban, hogy ott fekszünk majd egymás mellett az istálló felső részén, ahol volt valami szénaféleség, úgy, hogy egymás között legalább egy fél méter távolság legyen. Mert ha az egyiket megtámadja a tetű, az ne menjen át a másikra. Mind az öten túléltük.

Reggelenként bementünk a századhoz, mi, az öt kocsis reggelizni. Minden reggel ki voltak téve az éjjel meghalt gyerekek, barátaink [munkaszolgálatosok]. Azokat kellett fölrakni a szekérre, és elvinni Dorosinibe, a kórházba. Frászt kórház! Az egy fapajta volt. Volt, amelyiknek még mozgott kicsit a hasa is! Volt köztük halott, nem halott, sok haldoklót a halottak közé soroltak. Mert ezek miben haltak meg? Flekktífuszban [A flekktífusz vagy kiütéses tífusz – magas lázzal és fejfájással járó fertőző betegség, főleg a ruhatetvek terjesztik. – A szerk.]. Ez a járvány dühöngött, és ez pusztította el legalább a harmadát a zsidó munkaszolgálatosoknak. És ennek a tífusznak a tetű volt a terjesztője. Ez volt minden reggel, legalább két hétig, hogy vittük a halottakat. Mit csináltak a végén, amikor már majdnem minden elveszett? Fölgyújtották! Ott volt egy pár orvos is. Szintén munkaszolgálatos orvos, aki kezelte, akit még lehetett. Benn égett az egész, aki ki akart menni, azt lelőtték! Ez volt a kórház! [„A magukat tífuszosnak valló vagy valóban tífuszos munkaszolgálatosokat ezerszám irányították Dorosini kolhozfaluba, amely Kijevtől nyugatra feküdt (…). Itt egy hevenyészett karantén – »kórház« – működött, amely egy téglaépület néhány szobájából állt, s a legtöbb beteget nyitott pajtákban helyezték el. A karantén területét drótsövénnyel kerítették körül. Tucatnyi ember halt meg naponta, a tetemeket a közeli istállóban rakták halomba. 1943. április 30-án, a zsidó húsvét utolsó napján a hatóságok úgy határoztak, hogy a járványt véglegesen leküzdik. Az egyik pajtát, benne körülbelül 800 munkaszolgálatossal, felgyújtották. Égő fáklyákként ugráltak ki a szerencsétlen betegek a lángoló épületből, ekkor a keretlegények géppuskából tüzet nyitottak rájuk. Tucatnyi sebesültnek sikerült elmenekülnie. Amint a dorosini rémtett híre eljutott Nagybaczoni Nagy honvédelmi miniszterhez, azonnal kijelölt egy katonai bizottságot, elrendelte a vizsgálatot a tűz keletkezésének és a felelősök személyének megállapítására. A vizsgálat eredményét összegző jelentés szerint senkit sem terhelt felelősség,  (…), a »tüzet az okozta, hogy a zsidók közül néhányan dohányoztak«. (…) nem történt említés arról a vérfürdőről sem, amelyet a pajta köré vont keretlegények rendeztek.” Randolph L. Braham: A magyar Holocaust, Budapest, Gondolat/Wilmington, Blackburn International Inc., é. n. /1988/. – A szerk. ]

Volt motozás elég gyakran. Ugye létezik a tábori bíróság. És nálam is – mondok egy számot – találtak 200 pengőt. Eldugtam, jó, ha van nálam pénz! Ilyenek voltunk talán nyolcan, akik eldugtak valamit. Nyolcunkat elvittek a tábori bíróságra, és a legtöbbünket másfél-két év börtönbüntetésre ítélt a hadbíróság valutakiajánlás bűntette címén. Mert külföldön voltunk, nem Magyarországon, ahol a magyar valutát tartottuk. Elvették, és elítéltek, aztán később, amikor hazaértünk, be is börtönöztek.

Talán egy hónapig voltunk [Sztarij] Uzsicában. Onnan vonattal tudtunk jönni Európába. Mikor megérkeztünk Magyarországra, 1943 ősze, novembere lehetett. Az egész századot, akik még megmaradtunk a nem tudom, hány ezer emberből, vesztegzárba tettek természetesen, ez érthető is, Jászberényben. A tetűk miatt. Abban az időben a Kállay-kormány volt uralmon itt Magyarországon [Kállay Miklós 1942. március 9. és 1944. március 21. között volt Magyarország miniszterelnöke. – A szerk.]. A Kállay-kormány lényegesen enyhébb volt, mint aki előtte volt [Azaz: a Bárdossy-kormány. – A szerk.] Megjelent egy magas rangú katonatiszt, sorakozó! Összeírtak minket, akik ott voltunk a vesztegzárban, lehettünk talán ötszázan, négyszázan, körülbelül. Ő tartott egy olyan beszédet, hogy ezek a munkaszolgálatosok igenis a hazáért voltak kinn, és ezek a 2. honvéd hadsereg, egy nagy dumát vágott ki. Megkönnyeztük, olyan szépen beszélt. Utána volt még egy érdekes jelenet. Álljanak félre azok, akik nem voltak flekktífuszosok! Nyolcan voltunk, akik nem voltunk flekktífuszosok. Én olyan kondícióban voltam, le a kalappal. 32-33 éves lehettem és sovány. Nem voltam elhízva az orosz fronton. Akik kövérek voltak, azok elpusztultak. Volt köztük orvos, ügyvéd, mit tudom én, jómódban élők, azok az út felénél már elpusztultak. Általában a sovány emberek szívósabbak. Most vége a vesztegzárnak, mindenki mehet haza! Mi, akiket a hadbíróság elítélt, voltunk vagy nyolcan. A pénz miatt. Minket már a rabszállító teherautó várt. Nem mehettünk haza, hanem egyből vittek a Mártírok útjára, ott volt a honvédségi börtön [A Margit körúti katonai fogházról van szó. – A szerk.]. Bevittek a börtönbe, ez lehetett november közepe, 1943. Jött be hozzánk ügyvéd, mint egy normál börtönben. Zsolt Béla író ugyanabban börtönben volt, mint én, ővele beszélgettünk [Zsolt Béla (1895–1949): író, újságíró. 1939-től a zsidótörvények miatt nem dolgozhatott újságíróként. 1942-től munkaszolgálatos. 1944-ben a nagyváradi gettóból hamis papírokkal kiszöktették, Svájcba menekült. 1945-ben hazatért, 1947-től a Magyar Radikális Párt országgyűlési képviselője. „Kilenc koffer” című könyvében (1947) felidézte a nagyváradi gettó világát.. – A szerk.]. Bent a börtönben maga köré gyűjtötte a fiatalokat, és tartott nekik előadást a kommunizmusról. Nem mentem oda, én egész életemben hogy úgy mondjam, tettem a politikára, nem érdekelt. Tízen voltunk egy cellában. És szerencsénk volt megint. Mondom, az élet egy fej vagy írás. Horthy Miklós névnapja – december 5. volt [Miklós nap december 6-ára esik. – A szerk.], ennek alkalmából amnesztiával szabadultunk. Akkor mehettünk haza! Nem kellett leülni a büntetést. December 5-én szabadultam, akkor hazajöttem. Ez volt 1943-ban.

A munkaszolgálatok közötti rész kiesett az emlékezetemből. Öt hónapot voltam civilben. Addig édesanyámmal éltem, semmi különös nem történt. A Váli utcai lakásban laktunk anyámmal. Ő készítette az ételt. Ebben az időben, mielőtt bevonultam a második munkaszolgálatra, német katonák költöztek a mellettünk levő házba, a Váli utcai iskolába. A mellette lévő házból – akkor még nem volt gettó – csillagos házba zavarták a zsidókat. Én akkor már bevonultam a munkaszolgálatra. Ott kellett hagyni a lakásunkat. Édesanyám a menyasszonyom szüleihez ment a csillagos házba, ha jól tudom, a Sütő utca 2-be [Ez a menyasszony nem azonos a későbbi feleséggel. Több szó nem esik róla. – A szerk.].

1944. márciusban kaptam a következő munkaszolgálatos behívót. Szerencsére egy pesti századhoz, a Légrády utcába kerültünk. A századnak az volt a feladata, hogy jártunk ki a Rákoskeresztúri temetőbe, a német hullákat temetni. Nekünk kellett ásni a gödröt, és mikor volt az ominózus honvédségi temetés, akkor nekünk félre kellett állni, messzire, hogy ne lássanak a németek. Utána betemetni stb. Ez ment kábé 3-4 hétig.

Megint a szerencse! Az egyik barátom bent volt a központi irodában, én meg rajparancsnok voltam, és Népszínház utcából induló villamossal jártunk a temetőbe. Emlékszem, Ormainak hívták. Mondom, Gyuri, te benn vagy az irodában, közel vagy [a hírekhez]! Én tudom, hogy Magyarországról van szállítás. Szólj, ha látod, hogy a századot viszik nyugatra, mert tudom, hogy el fogják vinni, hiába temetjük a katonákat. Abban a pillanatban, amint az irodán megtudod, hogy másnap bevagonírozzák a századot, akkor légy szíves, itt a Népszínház utcában az átszállásnál várjál engemet, és mind a ketten meglépünk. Így is történt. Nem volt nehéz, nem volt túl nagy fegyelem, én parancsnok voltam, nekem kellett volna vigyázni a többiekre, meglógtunk, egy éjszakát a Népszínház utca egyik padlásán töltöttük. Innen mentünk a Sütő utca 2-be, a csillagos házba, ahol megkerestük én az anyámat, ő a feleségét. Lényeg az, hogy a csillagos házban nagyon jól éreztük magunkat egy napig. Ott voltak lányok, mi, fiatalemberek néztük a lányokat, hát persze, csinos lányok voltak, udvarolgattunk. Családok voltak, de férfi nem volt. Mi voltunk ketten. Igen ám, de az egyik lánynak egy őrmester udvarolt. Azt mondja, „Fiúk  – összejöttünk vele –, ne maradjatok itt! Nekem van egy télachos [télach, jiddis: szökés] századom. Ez egy nem nyilvántartott század” – mondja. „Van konyhánk, minden, Fóton. Kiviszlek benneteket, és elrejtelek benneteket!” Ez egy Oroszországból visszavonult magyar katonai század maradéka lehetett, biztos leszakadtak valahogy, hát a visszavonulás alatt szakadtak szét az ezredek. [Bármilyen hihetetlennek hangzik is, a német hadsereg összeomlásának küszöbén, a teljes káoszban ez könnyen előfordulhatott. – A szerk.]

Kivitt az őrmester. Másnap reggel a házat evakuálták. A téglagyárba vitték az embereket, onnan pedig a gettóba. Másnap mi már Fóton voltunk, ott találkoztunk másokkal is, akikkel együtt bujkáltunk tovább. Egy parasztházba kerültünk. Nyitva volt az ablak. Az ablak alatt ott feküdtünk a szénán öten, fiúk. És az ablak előtt sétáltak, hallottuk, hogy németül beszéltek, német katonák jöttek-mentek. Feküdtünk, ha jól emlékszem, öt napig. A parasztok otthagytak bennünket, mert őnekik nem volt pincéjük, elmentek egy utcával arrébb ismerősökhöz, ahol volt pince, ott húzták meg magukat. Mert akkor már bombázások voltak. Ha egyszer benyitnak a németek – megint csak a szerencse dolga! –, egyrészt azért lőnek le, mert katonaszökevények vagyunk, volt egy törvény abban az időben, hogy a katonaszökevényeket agyonlőni! Másrészt, mert zsidók vagyunk. Egyszer csak halljuk, „davaj, davaj!” [orosz: gyerünk, gyerünk]. Ezek már oroszok? Kinyitottuk az ajtót, bejöttek az orosz katonák, voltak vagy négyen-öten. Oroszul beszéltem velük. Honnan jöttetek? Vác felől – mondták. Jól van! – mondtam a fiúknak, fölöltözködni, ha elmentek, mi arra megyünk, amerről ők jöttek. Ide a németek vissza fognak jönni! És mennyire igazam volt? Fótot visszafoglalták a németek. Volt abban az időben, hogy Budáról eljöttek ide, aztán visszamentek, aztán megint jöttek, ahogy a harc alakult. Másnap visszajöttek a németek, aztán kirúgták őket. [A német hadvezetésnek nem sikerült a Dunától északra megállítani a szovjet előrenyomulást. December 9-én elesett Balassagyarmat, és a 6. harckocsihadsereg bal szárnya Vácnál kijutott a Dunához. A főváros napokig szinte védtelen volt északról. Günther von Pape vezérőrnagy, a Feldherrnhalle hadosztály parancsnoka azonnali ellentámadás mellett döntött. Fót visszafoglalása a II. ejtőernyős zászlóalj feladata lett balról Feldherrnhalle egységek, jobbról a magyar 10. gyalogoshadosztály segítségével. December 13-án 10 százalékos véres veszteség árán sikerült visszafoglalni Fótot, de 14-én este ismét fel kellett adniuk. – A szerk.] Mázlink volt, elmentünk Vácra. Jelentkeztem ott az orosz parancsnokságon. Dolgoztunk nekik: én a szállásban a lepedőket rendeztem, az átutazó katonáknak a szállását rendeztem. Ez tartott legalább egy hétig. Mondtam, adjatok nekem bumáskát [orosz: ’papírdarab’], hogy itt dolgoztam. Igazolványt kértem. Adtak. De végül nemigen használtam.

Mikor elindultunk Vácról, valahogy, valahol az úton szereztünk egy kis ródlit, húztuk és azon volt a mi holmink, hogy ne kelljen a hátunkon cipelni. Sose felejtem el, Hatvanban egy erdőn megyünk keresztül, és halljuk, mi, akik már keresztülmentünk mindenen, Oroszországon, Ukrajnán, olyan rafináltak voltunk, hogy mi már mindenhez tudtunk alkalmazkodni. És fiatalok voltunk! Magyar hangokat hallunk. Gyorsan berohantunk az erdőbe, és lefeküdtünk a földre. Néztük. Akkor hajtották Magyarországról a málenkij robotra a népséget. Volt köztük katonatiszt, lehetett látni a ruháján, volt köztük civil is. Mi lapultunk ott a hóban, elvonultak, mi mentünk tovább, jöttünk Pestre. Megérkeztünk Zuglóba, ahol van a vasúti fölüljáró. Az oroszok elkaptak! Elvezényeltek minket krampácsolni a síneket. Mentünk dolgozni egy órát vagy másfél órát. Én egy orosz katonához odavágódtam, kezdtem diskurálni, így, úgy, amúgy, honnan jövünk, hova megyünk. Fiúk, az orosszal megállapodtunk, hogy elmegyünk uzsonnázni, jövünk vissza! Mind az öten elmentünk, meglógtunk. Isteni szerencse! Keresztülmentünk már mindenen. Utána hazamentünk, az anyámat megtaláltam. És a barátom, Ormai is megtalálta a feleségét. Ezután jött a civil élet lassacskán. Mondtam, az én életem fej vagy írás!

Mikor hazajöttem, a régi szomszédokkal nem találkoztam, édesanyámat megleltem, kaptunk egy társbérleti szobát. Mi laktunk társbérletben anyámmal egy szobában. Nagyon rendes idős házaspárral voltunk társbérletben egy kétszobás lakásban, az Ó utcában. Amikor építettek pontonhidat [Budapest ostroma során  a visszavonuló német csapatok minden dunai átkelőt fölrobbantottak. Amíg az újjáépítés  be nem fejeződött, pontonhidak szolgálták az összeköttetést. Három közúti és egy vasúti hadi ponton épült. A közúti pontonok közül az első az Erzsébet-híd roncsai mellett épült Petőfi pontonhíd néven. A pesti népnyelv csak „Böske-híd” néven emlegette. A másik két pontont 1946 tavaszán építették. Az egyik a Margit-hidat  helyettesítette, ezt nevezte a népnyelv „Manci-hídnak”, a másik a mai Petőfi-híd pótlására épült. Ennek a pestiek nem adtak nevet. – A szerk.] a Dunára, akkor átmentem Budára, akkor már lehetett átmenni, de persze gyalog, megnézni a régi lakásomat. Becsengetek, ki nyit ajtót, egy volt katonatársam. Neki utalták ki. Ő menekült volt valahonnan, és oda költöztették! De még a háború alatt. Üdvözöltük egymást, mondtam, én vissza akartam kapni a lakást, de hát én nem bántom ezt, két gyereke van neki.

A feleségem 1921-ben született, Kaposvárott [A Somogy vm.-ben lévő rendezett tanácsú városnak 1920-ban közel 30 000 fő lakosa volt. Vallásfelekezet szerint a lakosok túlnyomó többsége római katolikus volt (79%), a második legnagyobb felekezet az izraelita volt, 1910-ben a lakosok 14%-os, 1920-ban 11%-os arányával. – A szerk.], Kaufer Zsuzsa leánykori néven. Testvérei nem voltak. A háború előtt végeredményben diák volt. Elvégezte a polgári iskolát. Azt is tudom, hogy ő tanult ilyen fűzőkészítést. Abban az időben nagyon divat volt a nőknél a fűző. A régi papírok között láttam az igazolványát, amiben elismerik, hogy fölszabadult mint hivatalos fűzőkészítő. A feleségem szülei átlagos polgári életet éltek, nem jártak templomba. A feleségem a második világháború előtt, 1940-ben férjhez ment Braun Róberthez, aki Csepelen az Egyesült Izzónál dolgozott mint vegyészmérnök [Az Egyesült Izzó és Villamossági Rt.-nek Csepelen soha nem volt gyára, viszont volt gyára Aschner Lipótnak, az Egyesült Izzó vezérigazgatójának. Az interjúalanyt talán az tévesztette meg, hogy a csepeli papírgyárat 1923-ban Neményi József gyáros és Aschner Lipót alapította. – A szerk.]. Éltek együtt talán 1 évet, és utána behívták a férjét munkaszolgálatra, ahol el is pusztult. Ennyit tudok róla. A feleségem a háború alatt az Elnök utcai raktárban, az egy katonai raktár volt, ott dolgozott. Ilyen közmunka volt, zsidó lányok végezték, katonaruhákat varrt. [Munkaszolgálat volt. A VIII. kerületi Elnök utcában a későbbi Május 1. Ruhagyár elődje, az 1913-ban, eredetileg katonai varroda és ruharaktár funkcióval létrehozott gyártelep volt, amelyet 1930-ban alakítottak át ruhagyárrá. – A szerk.]. Onnan vitték a gettóba. Tudom, hogy a Zsuzsi ott szabadult föl a gettóban.

A feleségemmel úgy ismerkedtünk meg, hogy volt a Kereskedők Országos Szövetsége, ez szervezett egy rendezvényt. Ott találkoztam vele, egy magas, ősz hajú férfi volt vele, az apja. Ott ismerkedtünk meg. Jártam föl hozzájuk, meghívtak magukhoz. És összebarátkoztunk. 1947-ben esküdtünk a VI. kerületi elöljáróságon. Csak polgári esküvőt tartottunk. Nem tudom, hol voltunk nászúton. Gyermekeink nincsenek. Nem akartunk. S ma a feleségem határozottan kijelentette, hogy hála istennek, mert ebbe a világba zsidó gyereket szülni bűn lett volna.

Mikor megnősültem, 1947-ben az Aradi utcában laktunk egy háromszobás lakásban. A ház nagyon romos volt, maga a lakás szép, utcai lakás volt. A lépcsőház úgy nézett ki, azt nem lehet elképzelni. Az egyik szobában én a feleségemmel, középen volt a hall, és anyukám volt egy külön szobában. Persze mindvégig leveleztünk Imivel. S anyuka azt mondja, mikor már látta, hogy az én dolgaim is elrendeződnek, ő kimenne az Imihez, így beadtuk a kérvényt még előtte lakáscserére. Abban az időben az volt, hogy akinek egy szobával több volt a szükségesnél, azt oda kell adni társbérletbe, ezért egy éven belül akartunk lakást cserélni, végül találtunk egy megfelelőt Kelenföldön. Mi ide kerültünk [1952-ben költöztek el az Aradi utcából], gyönyörű szép, zöldövezet. Itt folytattuk az életünket. Itt se meleg víz, se hideg víz, se fűtés nem volt, amennyit én fűtöttem, az volt. Jó volt. Anyuka először, mikor beadta a kérvényt, elköltözött egy barátnőjéhez, hogy mi el tudjuk cserélni a lakást, de elutasították. Második beadásra megengedték. Anyuka kiment Renóba, és ott is halt meg 88 éves korában.

Aztán már elegem volt, hogy nincs víz, fűtés, elkezdtünk másik lakást keresni, de egy évig jártunk utána, míg a végén találtunk egy megfelelő helyet. Ez egy kis lakás, másfél szoba-hallos, akkor nagyon jó volt. 1952 óta itt lakunk a XI. kerületben. Számtalanszor megyek el a ház előtt, ahol gyerekkoromban éltünk.

Az idősebbik bátyám, György a háború után tisztviselőként helyezkedett el itthon. Abban az időben, 1945-ben elég volt az, ha valaki írni és számolni is tudott. Azt tudom, hogy tisztviselő volt többek közt a Csemege Nagykereskedelmi Vállalatnál. Aztán volt valamelyik gyárban is tisztviselő. Gyuri szürke katona volt itt, Magyarországon. Dolgozott itt, dolgozott ott, volt egy nagyon jó felesége, és van egy kislánya, aki ma már nyugdíjas. Ő az egyetlen élő rokonom, mert nekem se gyerekem, se más rokonom nincs. Nem volt gyerekünk, senki. Ő az egyetlen, aki kétnaponként telefonál.

A háború után civil élet kezdődött. Akkor még a Rákosi korszak előtt egy olyan szabadság, egy intervallum volt, amikor félig nyugati, félig keleti, mindenki azt csinált, amit akart [lásd: a koalíció évei Magyarországon, 1945–1948]. Én önállósítottam magam a Belvárosban. Szereztem egy kis pénzt. Egy idős néninél, az üzletének egy részében kezdtem el kereskedni, sajnos ugyanazzal a cikkel (divatáruval), amivel ő. Nem bírtam sokáig, másfél év után tönkrementem. Mások arannyal kereskedtek, azok meggazdagodtak. A jó kereskedők meggazdagodtak, én tönkrementem. Nem voltam kereskedőtípus annak ellenére, hogy az apámnak a vénája kereskedő volt. A feleségem apukájának volt egy textil-nagykereskedése a Rumbach Sebestyén utcában, a feleségem ott dolgozott, és miután tönkrementem, én is odamentem.

A feleségemmel jártunk feketét inni, a Király utcában volt egy cukrászda. Mivel olyan sok munkám nem volt, a cukrászdában beszélgettünk, jóba lettünk a cukrásszal, és az fölvett engemet üzletszerzőnek. Adott egy táskát, benne különféle süteményeket, amivel jártam a várost – és ami estére maradt, azt persze otthon megettük. Igen ám, csak jött az államosítás, a cukrászdát államosították [lásd: államosítás Magyarországon]. Engem is államosítottak. És akkor jött létre az Édességbolt Vállalat. Engem ott alkalmaztak, számlázási osztályvezetőnek tettek, tudták, hogy érettségiztem, abban az időben szedték össze a képzetteket. Adtak mellém 6-7 nőt számlázásnak. Ilyen hosszú asztalnál ültünk. Azok között volt takarítónő, volt entellektüel is. Ők írták a számlákat.

Tehát az Édességbolt Vállalatnak számláztunk. A vállalat adta a kiskereskedő cukrászatoknak a számlákat. Egyik alkalommal bejön az igazgató, nagyon rendes ember volt. Bejön hozzánk és azt mondja: „Salgó elvtárs, fáradjon be az irodámba.” Mit akarnak tőlem? Bementem az irodába, ott fogadott még két férfi. Bemutatott. Azt mondja, az urak az adófelügyelettől vannak itt, és följelentik a vállalatot azért, mert a vállalatnak van 16 teherautója, és ennek a 16 teherautónak a nyilvántartása és ügyintézése… Igaz, hogy van egy gépkocsi-előadó, de nincs semmi a helyén. Azért hívtuk magát, mert tudjuk, hogy van jogosítványa. Tudták, de nem tudom, honnan. Ha maga elvállalja ezt a munkakört, akkor adnak egy hónap laufot, és nem jelentik addig föl a vállalatot. Vállalja? Vállalom. Mért ne vállaltam volna, volt ott egy gépkocsi-előadó, de nálam fiatalabb. Utána szedtem be az összes „Magyar Közlöny”-t, ami ezzel kapcsolatban van, otthon átolvastam, megtanultam, és ugyanakkor indult egy tanfolyam, erre a képzésre indította a Közlekedési és Postaügyi Minisztérium, rögtön beíratott a vállalat. Attól kezdve én a vállalat gépkocsiparancsnoka voltam. Rendbe kellett szedni az összes iratot, menetlevelet. Csináltam nyilvántartást.

Az Édességbolt Vállalat szállítási részlegét beolvasztották a FÜSZÉRT Szállítási Vállalatba. Annak volt 150 autója. Ott voltam egy fél évig. Aztán a FÜSZÉRT Szállítási Vállalatot beolvasztották a Belkereskedelmi Szállítási Vállalatba. Ott is volt vagy 150 teherautó. Lett kábé 300 teherautó. Mind a két helyen olyan volt a gépkocsi-előadó, hogy semmi nyilvántartás, semmi ügyintézés, természetesen kit tettek meg? Engem! A Belkereskedelmi Szállítási Vállalat a Máriás utcában volt. Az országban volt valami 5 vagy 6 helyen kihelyezett részlege, amiről semmi nyilvántartás. Az égvilágon soha, senki nem mondta nekem azt, amit a Gecse elvtárs mondott, mikor elindultunk Ukrajnába, hogy én egy rohadt, büdös zsidó vagyok! Senki! Nekem a kollégák ugyanolyanok voltak, mint én. Szóval nem volt differencia. Volt vagy 300 sofőr.

Nekem ajánlottak annak ellenére magas funkciókat, hogy nem voltam párttag. Tudni kell, hogy 1946-tól kezdve egészen 1956-ig, de még tovább is, a rendszerváltozásig, a párttagokból nevezték ki a különböző funkcionáriusokat. Nekem is akartak adni funkciót, de mondtam, köszönöm szépen! Én inkább maradok szürke katona. Amit csinálok, azt csinálom, amit nem, nem. Nem kellett agyondolgozni magamat.

Jött aztán 1956 [lásd: 1956-os forradalom]. 1956 októberében beutaláson voltunk a feleségemmel Parádon [vagyis szakszervezeti beutalóval üdültek]. Letelt a két hetünk, igen ám, de közben jött a forradalom. Mi nem tudtunk róla, mert Parádon voltunk. De megtudtuk, hogy Recsket kinyitották. Recsk meg közel volt Parádhoz. Nem tudtunk hazajönni, nincs közlekedési eszköz. Hát éjjel-nappal őrséget álltunk, mert tudtuk, hogy Recskről szabadultak ki a köztörvényes bűnözők is, nem csak a politikai elítéltek [A recski munkatáborban nem voltak köztörvényes bűnözők. Az megtörtént, hogy különböző börtönökből a forradalom során köztörvényes bűnözők is távoztak. Lásd még: recski kényszermunkatábor. – A szerk.]. Letelt a két hetünk. Elláttak még 2-3 napig. Mivel Parád a Mátrában van, a galyatetői szállónak meg a többi nagyobb szállónak az élelmiszer-ellátását a BSZV kihelyezett kocsija látta el Gyöngyös és Kékes között. Megállapodtunk a sofőrrel, hogy mivel a családja neki is Budapesten van, szépen hazamegyünk. November, havazás, tél, hófúvás. A teherautó eljött értünk Parádra, lementünk Hatvanba, és onnan jöttünk haza. Elég zűrös volt, még a gépkocsivezető is alig látott, olyan hófúvás volt. Ezt azért mondom, hogy a kapcsolatunk a BSZV-n keresztül volt. Ez segített bennünket ki akkor.

Erről a munkahelyemről egyébként 1956-ban teherautók indultak Bécsbe. Vitték ki egymást az alkalmazottak. Aki akart a munkatársaim közül, az mehetett. Akkor úgy volt, hogy aki akart, ment! Én nem akartam, mert itt volt akkor már a feleségem, az anyám is itt volt még, aki nekem mindenem volt. Kivitték a fiúkat, akik akartak menni, az autók pedig másnap visszajöttek, azok, akik nem akartak disszidálni, azok visszahozták a kocsikat.

1956 és 1957 között jött egy rendelet, hogy az ország valamennyi hivatásos tehergépkocsi-vezetőjének kötelező levizsgáznia az új KRESZ-ből. Hát ezeknek, akik ezt fogják csinálni, a Közlekedési és Postaügyi Minisztériumban kell levizsgázniuk. Hát kiszúrtak engemet is, mert már nevem volt a minisztériumban, tudták, hogy ez egy neves fickó! A minisztériumból is volt pár fiú, úgyhogy kábé nyolcan voltunk. Én hazamentem, és úgy tanultam, mint egy diák. A feleségemnek, aki abszolút nem értett ehhez, a kezébe adtam a könyvet, kérdezz ki! Föl kellett sorolni olyan helyet – csak egy példát mondok –, hol kell különös figyelemmel közlekedni. 16 hely. Például alagút, szűkebb utca. Megtanultam. Mentünk a KPM-be, levizsgáztunk, nagyon drukkoltunk. Mert a minisztériumban én egy vállalati előadó voltam, sikerült! Levizsgáztunk és az országot jártuk vizsgáztatni, nem tudom, hány ezer embert az egész országban, amit megfizettek fejenként, és talán nyolcan láttuk el. Persze azokat a hivatásos gépkocsivezetőket is, akik a Belkereskedelmi Minisztériumhoz tartoztak. Ez volt legalább kétezer ember. Ez tartott egy ideig. Utána 1962-ben kaptam egy parancsot, már említettem, hogy tudták, ennek a fiúnak van valami a fejében. Menjek be a minisztériumba. Az igazgató mondta: „Salgó elvtárs, a szállítási igazgatóságon alkalmazunk tégedet, mint főelőadót.” Bekerültem a minisztériumba a szállítási igazgatósághoz. Tartott talán két évig vagy egy évig. És akkor azt mondták, hogy jött egy rendelkezés, hogy a szállítási igazgatóság megszűnik, és lett belőle vállalati tröszt. Behívott az igazgató, azt kérdezte: „T., mit akarsz csinálni?” Két lehetőség volt, maradok a trösztnél, ahová tartoznak az összes belkereskedelmi szállítási vállalatok, üzemélelmezés, a könnyűipar, vagy mehetek a minisztériumba.

Így kerültem be a minisztériumba. De kihangsúlyoztam, hogy igaz, hogy bemegyek a minisztériumba, de nem vagyok hajlandó belépni a pártba. Tudniillik a minisztériumban az alkalmazottak 98 százaléka párttag volt természetesen. Bekerültem egy irodába, ott volt két aranyos kollégám, természetesen mind a kettő párttag. Pártgyűléskor én mehettem haza. Tetszett nekem. Nagyon rendesek voltak. Általában abban az időben gyakori volt a hivatali fúrás. Engem nem fúrt senki, mert ebben a szakmában, a belkereskedelemben én voltam egyedül! Nem volt rivális. Lényeg az, hogy hozzám tartozott a Belkereskedelmi Minisztérium 140 vállalata, és a 140 vállalat mindegyikében volt egy vagy két gépkocsi, egy-két teherautó. Ennek abban az időben a Közlekedési Minisztérium volt a felettese a közlekedésben. És ők írták elő, milyen nyilvántartás kell. Ezeket mind nekem küldték. Én évenként tartottam műszaki szemlét.

A munka mellett persze volt a magánéletem. Először is a testvéreim. Merem mondani, hogy ilyen jó testvért, mint az Imi, nem tudok még egyet elképzelni! Segített, a háború után az elsők között volt, aki küldött ide csomagokat. Az én anyámnak volt a segítője. Egyáltalában, olyan jószívű teremtés volt. 1956 után, három évenként jöttek ide látogatóba, akkor mindig részben nálunk, részben szállodában laktak, fent a hegyen, a Közalkalmazottak Szakszervezetének az üdülőjében. Ott voltunk egy hónapig, nagyon kellemes, nagyon jó volt. Voltunk Balatonlellén, találkoztunk velük egyszer Athénban, kint Amerikában elintéztek egy hajóutat mindannyiunknak.

Az 1960-as években már lehetett venni magánszemélynek is személyautót. Nem egy fejes jött hozzám, [mert tudták, hogy ismerem a járműparkot]: „T., szívesen honorálunk tégedet, például Pécsen az üzemélelmezési meg ilyen meg olyan gépkocsit meg szeretném venni, mert én pécsi vagyok.” „Ne haragudjatok, soha senkinek, semmilyen adatot nem adok ki!” – mondtam. Nem azért, de engem nem lehetett korrumpálni. Kicsi volt a fizetésem, 20-án vagy 25-én majdnem mindig a barátomtól kértünk kölcsön, de akkor sem.

Egyszer a főosztályvezető magához kért az irodába. Mondta: „T., a miniszterhelyettes hozzájárulásával el kell vállalnod az ÁKF, magyarul az Állami Kereskedelmi Felügyelőség gépkocsiinak az adminisztratív dolgait meg mindent, ami ezzel kapcsolatos. És persze a megfelelő képzést. A minisztériumban minden évben tartottam az összes gépkocsi-előadónak előadást itt a Vigadó utcában. Tartottam másodállásban oktatást, ez azt jelenti, hogy velük együtt mentem vidékre. Plusz pénzért. Ez a plusz pénz arra volt jó… Szóval, az én drága jó anyám, aki kinn volt Amerikában már ekkor, tudta, hogy én autóbolond vagyok. Küldött nekem 300 dollárt, próbáljak autót venni valamiképpen. Akkor már lehetett személyautót venni. Budapesten járt egy németországi autókereskedő. Valahogy egy társaságban összekerültem vele. Megállapodtunk abban, hogy én az anyámtól Amerikából neki átküldetek 300 dollárt. Ezért nekem egy 500-as, nem nagyobbat, 500-as Fiatot küld. Miért? Mert annak a legalacsonyabb a vámtétele. Az ÁKF-nél kapott fizetés pontosan fedezte a vámtételt. Én emlékszem, havi kétezer forintot kellett fizetnem. 24 ezer forint volt a vámja annak a kis kocsinak. Meg is jött a kocsi Csepelre hajóval. Hát egy kis apró, 500-as. Aláfeküdtünk, föléfeküdtünk. A feleségem úgy hívta, hogy Pudvinka! Kisült, hogy 75 ezer kilométer volt a kocsiban, és nem úgy, mint ahogy én megállapodtam a némettel, hogy 5 évesnél idősebb nem lehet. Ez 7 éves volt. Na de csoda dolog volt! Itt az utcában, mikor hazahoztam a kocsit, rajtam kívül még egy autó állt. Műanyag teteje volt a kocsinak, és az én drága jó, irigy honfitársaim, vagy nem tudom, hogy fejezzem ki… Szóval, a műanyag tető másnap reggel már föl volt vágva! A műanyag tető gumiból volt, összeforrasztottam, de sírtam. Kiskocsit 2 évig nem lehetett eladni, utána eladtam. Utána – a minisztériumban dolgoztam már akkor – kijártam azt, hogy kaptam egy Trabantot [A Trabant első típusát, a P70-t, amelyet 1954 és 1958 között gyártottak, 1956 után kezdték Magyarországon árusítani. 1964-ig három típusváltás volt a Trabant gyártásában, mígnem 1964-ben beállt a P601-es típus, amelyet változatlan formában állítottak elő a gyártás megszűnéséig, 1989-ig. Trabanthoz – akárcsak a többi típushoz – úgy lehetett hozzájutni, hogy az ember befizette a vételár 20 százalékát, és várta – sokszor három-négy évig – a kiutalást. – A szerk.]. Nem négy év várakozás után, hanem fél év várakozás után. A világ legboldogabb embere voltam. Szintén milyen boldog voltam akkor, mikor az első frizsidert meg tudtam venni! Az egy külön öröm volt, vagy bármi, ami egy kicsit a modernebb vagy könnyebb életet jelentette. 

Ragyogó volt a minisztériumi főosztályvezetőm. 1970-ben azt mondta: „T., itt van a RÖVIKÖT [Rövid- és Kötöttáru Nagykereskedelmi Vállalat – A szerk.] igazgatója, és szívesen átvennének téged mint szállítási raktárvezetőt.” Hát mivel már kevés a munkám, oké! Életem egyik legsötétebb pontja, mert ott volt fúrás. Beraktak szállítási osztályvezetőnek egy másik ember helyett. És azt a másik embert szerették. Én egy abszolút negatív figura voltam, mikor oda bekerültem. Aztán a RÖVIKÖT-nél azt mondtam az igazgatónak, ha én elérem a 60. évet, én abban a pillanatban nyugdíjba megyek. Nekem ebből elég volt!

60 éves koromban [1974-ben – A szerk.] nyugdíjba mentem. Két vagy három hónap után a Belkereskedelmi Szállítási Vállalat jelentkezik, hogy mint nyugdíjast alkalmaz engemet oktatóként. A Belkereskedelmi Szállítási Vállalatnak akkor volt Debrecenben, Szegeden, Nagykanizsán, Siófokon, Kaposvárott, Pécsett kihelyezett részlege. Én eljártam oda mint nyugdíjas oktatást tartani, én a közlekedést, volt egy barátom, a kereskedelmi vonatkozását oktatta. Nem csak a KRESZ-t, hanem inkább a közlekedési erkölcsöt tartottam 1-2 órát mindenütt. Minden negyedévben egyszer mentünk el ezekre a helyekre. Én 15 évig a nyugdíj után, tehát 75 éves korig aktív dolgozója voltam a vállalatnak. Be voltam jelentve mint nyugdíjas. Többet kerestem, mint aktív koromban, mert kaptam a nyugdíjat plusz ezt. Én végleg nyugdíjba mentem 74 évesen, ez volt 1989 körül. Mint öreg nyugdíjas aztán tétlenül tengettem az életemet tovább. Hiányzott a munka, és ma is, 90 éves koromban is hiányzik. Akkor érzem jól magamat, ha otthon is akármi tennivaló akadt.

Amikor Izrael állam megalakult, kicsit átmelegedett a szívem, de az nem jutott eszembe, hogy kimenjek. Sőt ma is ez egy jó érzés, hogy létezik Izrael állam.

Mikor lehetett kivándorolni 1956-ban, én nem mentem. Pedig engem a bátyám nagyon várt. Ő úgy szeretett engem, hogy a jó isten nem tud jobban szeretni, mint ő. De mi azért nem mentünk, mert a feleségemnek a szülei éltek. Mi nem hagyhatjuk a két öreget itt magára. Mi nem mehetünk sehova, itthon kell maradnunk. Segítettük anyagilag az akkori szerény fizetésből az öregeket. Később az öregúr beteg volt, akkor én kocsival vittem kórházba meg egyéb, éjjel telefonáltak, hogy rosszul van az apósom, elmentünk hozzájuk. Szegény anyósom, mikor egyedül maradt az apósom halála után, annyira nem tudta elviselni az egyedüllétet, hogy egyik alkalommal fölhívom a feleségemet az irodában, ahol dolgozott, egy festék és vegyi áru nagykereskedelmi vállalatnál: „Te, Zsuzsi, senki nem veszi fel ott a kagylót! Telefonálni akartam anyádnak, hogy mi újság.” Mind a ketten fogtuk magunkat az irodában és hazamentünk. Az anyósom otthon feküdt a szobában, az ágyban eszméletlenül. Gyorsan kihívtuk az orvosnőt, a körzeti orvost, egy nagyon lelkiismeretes, okos asszony volt. Kijött, egyből megállapította, hogy gyógyszert vett be. Elvitték a mentővel gyorsan a Felsőerdősorba, ott volt az öngyilkosoknak a kórháza. Kimosták a gyomrát, utána négy évig éltünk együtt az anyósom meg mi ketten. Túlélte persze, de nyilván nehéz volt neki.

Egy nő jár most hozzánk 2 órára – hétfő, szerda, péntek. Takarít és gondozónő. Ő keresztény létére hagyott egy cédulát a következő szöveggel a múlt héten, amikor az ünnepek voltak [Ros Hásáná, Jom Kipur]. „Kedves T. bácsi és Zsuzsi néni! Ilyenkor, a zsidó újév most köszönt be, és akkor azt szokták mondani, és azt írta héberül, hogy én be lettem írva az élet könyvébe! Keresztény nő! Nagyon meghatódtunk! [Ros Hásáná napján a vallásos zsidók a következővel köszöntik egymást, illetve köszönnek el egymástól a zsinagógában: „Lesáná tová tikátév vetéchátém (Lösónó tajvó tikoszév vöszéchoszém)” (Boldog esztendőre légy beírva és bepecsételve!) vagy „Ktivá váchátimá tová (Kszivó váchászimó tajvó)” (Jó beírást és bepecsételést!). A hagyomány szerint Ros Hásáná napján dönti el az Örökkévaló, hogy mi történjék velük a következő évben, és tetteiknek megfelelően ekkor íratnak be a jók/élet, a gonoszok/halál vagy a közepesek könyvébe. Erre a beírásra vonatkozik a fenti jókivánság. Akik a jók/élet könyvébe íratnak, azokat az Örökkévaló egyúttal be is pecsételi oda, a gonoszok pedig a halál könyvébe kerülnek, és oda pecsételik be őket. A többség azonban a közepesek könyvébe kerül, és így még van tíz napjuk (ászeret jemé hátsuvá – a tíz bűnbánó nap), hogy a javukra billentsék a mérleget. A közepesek végső ítélete és megpecsételése Jom Kipurkor történik. Ilyenkor azonban hagyományosan már nem a fenti formulát használják, hiszen a beíratás Ros Hásánákor megtörtént, így csak a következőket mondják: „Lesáná tová téchátém (Lösónó tajvó téchoszém)” (Boldog esztendőre légy bepecsételve!) vagy „Chátimá tová (Chászimó tajvó)” (Jó bepecsételést!). – A szerk.]

A feleségemmel jártunk kocsival, három évenként nyáron külföldre mentünk [Azaz nyilván nyugatra, hiszen a szocialista országokba korlátozás nélkül utazhattak. 1956 után a magyar állampolgárok nyugati turistautakra háromévenként meghatározott összegű dollárt kaptak. (Ez az összeg hosszú ideig 70 dollár volt.) Ha azonban valakinek nem kellett igényelnie a valutát (mert meghívták vagy hivatalos útra ment), akár minden évben utazhatott. – A szerk.]. Olaszországban, Riminiben voltunk, keresztülmentünk Zágrábon, aztán Fiumén és úgy mentünk le Riminibe. Az úti cél Firenze volt. Firenzében találkoztunk a bátyámékkal [Imréékkel], visszafelé mentünk Riminibe, és ott voltunk egy hétig. Riminibe érünk, ki van írva egy szállodára: Hotel Vienna, mondom, ez ragyogó, ezek tudnak németül. Bemegyek, mondom németül: „Szeretnék egy szobát!” Azt mondja, „Nicht deutsch, de a férjem beszél franciául”. „Hozza ide!” Odajön, ami nekem megmaradt a francia nyelvtudásból [Salgó Tibor reáliskolába járt, ahol klasszikus nyelveket nem tanultak, de tanítottak modern nyelveket – franciát, angolt és természetesen németet. – A szerk.], elgagyogtam vele, megmondtam, hogy mit akarok. Egy hét után már egész jól beszélgettünk. Ugyanígy voltam a némettel is. Ausztriába mentem, nehezen beszéltem, de mikor már kint voltam három napig, akkor már ment. Nyelvérzékem van, illetve volt, ma már sajnos távol van tőlem.

Egyszer találkoztunk Imiékkel Ausztriában, ott még az idősebbik bátyám is ott volt, azt hiszem, valamelyik tó partján. A salzkammerguti tavaknál voltunk. A bátyám, Imi, a felesége, Marion és az idősebbik bátyám, György a feleségével, Rózsikával, mindannyian, az egész család ott nyaraltunk. A feleségemmel Trabanttal mentünk odáig, sose felejtem el! Beültek ők a Trabantba, mondom, most elmegyünk két tóval odébb. Hát, ők még életükben nem ültek Trabantban. Nem nevettek ki bennünket. Furcsa lehetett nekik, de soha egy szót nem mondtak, ami nem a szeretet hangján hangzott volna el.

Ausztriába óriási volt a határon átmenni abban az időben. Ma már nem is tudják elképzelni az emberek, mi volt a zárt határ a kommunizmus alatt, mit jelentett átmenni egy szabad országba. Micsoda dolog volt! Salzburgban leraktam a Trabantot az utcán valahol várakozni, és a feleségemmel elmentünk sétálni, körülnézni. Jövök vissza, körülállják a kocsit, fiatalok. Mondom a gyerekeknek: „Schön! Auto von Papier! [német: Szép. Egy autó papírból. – A szerk.] Elkezdtek röhögni. Jó volt, nem volt semmi bajom. Én is viccesnek gondoltam.

Egyszer még volt itt a bátyám, a felesége halála után egy évvel. Jártunk a városban, és azt mondta: „T., nem érzem jól magamat!” Akkor beültünk a volt Apponyi téren, most Ferenciek tere, volt nála gyógyszer, bevette, hogy jobban lesz tőle. De akkor már kezdődött neki, szegénynek, a parkinsonja [Parkinson-kór – mozgászavarokkal járó idegrendszeri megbetegedés. – A szerk.], és tulajdonképpen abba halt bele. Imi pontosan 3 évvel ezelőtt halt meg Amerikában, 2001-ben. Renóban, urnában van temetve, csak egy ilyen márványlap, ami egy szintben van a talajjal, nem emelkedik ki. A felesége is ott van. Marion nem volt zsidó, és a bátyámék kint nem is éltek zsidó életet. Azt, hogy miért nem lett gyermekük, azt nem tudom megmondani. Marion két évvel idősebb volt, és két évvel Imre előtt halt meg [1999]. Titkárnő volt, illetve ilyen menedzserszerű munkát végzett egy francia színész mellett.

Az idősebbik bátyám [György] kórházban halt meg, mégpedig a Róbert Károly körúti kórházban. Benn voltam nála minden vasárnap, és meséltem, hogy olyan klassz, megyünk nyáron Sopronba, beutalásra. Mert oda jártunk 8 éven keresztül, kaptam mindig beutalót. Következő vasárnap bementem, már üres volt az ágy. Ha Újpest felé megyünk a Váci úton, ott kinn, Angyalföldön, ott van eltemetve. Illetőleg urnában, hamvasztva.

A feleségem is kapta a kárpótlást most a nyugdíjhoz. Kapott ő is, én is kapom a munkaszolgálattal, Németországban elintézték. Ez van. Nem panaszkodom. Hála istennek, semmim nem fáj! Megértem, ebben a hónapban vagyok 90 éves! Tudok jönni, menni, a bajom az, hogy a feleségem nagyon beteg. De hogy mi a baja, az orvosok nem tudják megállapítani. Azt mondják, hogy millió egyéb, tüdő, szív, ez-az. Kétszer volt kórházban.

A feleségem szüleinek a sírja ott van, a feleségem nagybátyjának a sírja ott van a Rákoskeresztúri zsidó temetőben. A zsidó temetőben nincs sírmegújítás, hanem ott örökre szól a sírhely. Az a régi rész, ahol a mi rokonaink nyugszanak, nagyon gazos és sok a kullancs, úgyhogy most már csak akkor megyünk, amikor hideg van. Félünk a kullancsoktól. Egy barátom nagy kiránduló volt, és Lyme-kórban halt meg.

Nekem volt infarktusom, igen, 15 vagy 16 évvel ezelőtt. Utána két évig, mert itt lakom a Gellért-hegy mellett, én a Gellért-hegyről lefelé jöttem, de mindennap. Két év után már fölfelé mentem. De mindennap. Ez lehetett az, hogy én azóta is, még ma, 90 éves koromban is minden áldott nap legalább egy órát vagy másfél órát az utcán vagyok. Közben vásárolok, közben ezt csinálom, azt csinálom. A feleségem sajnos három éve nem jár az utcára, minden ilyesmit nekem kell csinálni. De a többi azért nem olyan vészes, hozzák az ebédet, van minden egyéb, aki segít stb. Már kiváltottam a Rákoskeresztúri zsidó temetőben a temetési helyemet. Le van biztosítva. Megint csak azért, mert nincs leszármazottam, ki fog gondoskodni róla? Nekem kell gondoskodni.

Hát, amennyire zsidó vagyok, én csak azt tudom mondani, hogy gondolom, itt a templomban talán várták, hogy oda menjek. Én azt mondom, otthon is lehet imádkozni, ugyanazt el tudom mondani otthon, mint a templomban.

Az „Új Élet” zsidó című lapban megjelent egy cikk, hogy ősztől itt, az imaházban [Károli Gáspár tér 5. – A szerk.] Radnóti Zoltán lett a rabbi. Én arra járok bevásárolni minden nap, és mindig csukva volt az ajtó, de egy szombati napon aztán nyitva volt. Imádkoztak zsidók, voltak ott ilyen idős mókusok, mint én, de én nem maradtam ott, mert bár zsidó vallású vagyok, édesapámmal tartottuk a vallást, de a háború… kifordított belőle. Nem a vallásból, én ma is vallom, hogy magyar zsidó vagyok, zsidó vallású magyar vagyok. Ott imádkoztak, bemutatkoztunk, nagyon kedves volt, ne haragudjon, rabbi úr, de engem – sajnos, vagy szerencsére – itt, a szomszédban (a Váli utcában) a ciszterciták a Hiszekegyre tanítottak [Nem tudni, mire gondol. A Váli utcában az 1920-as évek végéig valóban a ciszterciták Szent Imre Gimnáziuma működött, ő azonban az Eötvös József reáliskolába járt, legalábbis ott érettségizett. A Váli utcában a gimnázium mellett községi elemi iskola működött abban az időben. – A szerk.]. Én abban nevelkedtem. Én nem járok zsinagógába ezért.

Tegnap tettem föl a kérdést a feleségemnek. Mondom, Anyukám, mikor voltunk mi utoljára zsidó templomban? Azt mondja, nem emlékszik. Azt hiszem, a házasságunk ideje alatt, az 50 év alatt nemigen voltunk. Úgy, mint turista, úgy voltam a Dohány utcai templomban párszor. Csodálatos. A szépségét megnézni érdemes, fontos, de nem, ünnepen nem megyek oda!

Van egy nagyon kedves kolléganőm, akivel összejárok hetenként egyszer. Ő évekig járt hozzánk, de mióta a feleségem olyan állapotban van, hogy nem tudjuk fogadni, csak én találkozom vele. Őneki volt egy megjegyzése, ő katolikus, mégpedig egy nagyon vallásos katolikus, aki minden vasárnap járt a templomba. Mikor volt a választás, a Belvárosi templomba jár, kijött a mise alatt, azt mondta: „Én nem szemináriumra jöttem!” Mert a pap politizált. Hát a pap ne politizáljon! A pap a szeretetet hirdesse! Ez volt. De nem csak őneki, nagyon sok jóérzésű fülének nem tetszett. Mindegy az, hogy katolikus vagy református, evangélikus vagy bármi. A szeretetet hirdesse, ez a dolga, nem más! És látjuk, mi van ma a világban. Egyik ember öli a másikat. Van az embernél kegyetlenebb? Én csak egyet tudok mondani. A „National Geographic”-ban láttam, az oroszlán mellett, ha az jól van lakva, nyugodtan elsétálhat. Az nem fogja az embert megtámadni, az oroszlán. Pedig tudjuk, a legvadabb állatok közé tartozik. Ha jól van lakva, de ha éhes, biztosan megtámadja. Az ember akkor is támad, ha nem éhes, nem így van? Ez a mai világ, sajnos! Ettől függetlenül vannak ma is jó érzésű emberek, akik hirdetik a szeretetet és szeretetben élnek.

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