ВОЙНА.

1941 – 1945 гг

The war caught me in Kiev. It was a typical summer day. Suddenly, air-raid alarms came from the
radio breeders.
My friends and I walked in the yard and were terribly delighted, because training air alarms were
commonplace at the time. And we, the children, were taken into the house for the time of the air
raid. And here we were in the courtyard: “Finally, we will see what will happen! ...”
But it was a war!
I remember we are sitting in a basement turned into a bomb shelter. Howl sirens. In the open
door of the basement, I see the ground yard, on which the shadows of airplanes are crawling. I
hear how they monotonously buzz and hear the dull sounds of explosions. I am surrounded by
hidden people I know. And I am haunted by curiosity, mixed with some kind of eerie. After one of
the air alarms, when we left the basement bomb shelter, in the bench on which we often liked to
sit, a fragment of a bomb was sticking up.
Dad came for me when I was walking in the yard. He picked me up, he was very excited - I thought
that the house was bombed. We went home with him to Kursk.
Kursk was some kind of anxious, unrecognizable. The windows of our apartment, and other
windows, were criss-crossed with newsprint strips. When it was getting dark, the light could not
be turned on unless the windows were hung tightly with blankets or anything so that the light did
not penetrate. This was followed very closely and punished for violations. Even when we went to
Kursk with our dad, we saw at the stations some people with big chests and bales - these were old
people, women and children. Then I first heard the word: “refugees”.
I remember the howling sirens of loudspeakers accompanied by anxious voice:
"The air raid air raid alert ...!"
The evening, the room is dark, I look out the window and see the sky humming and slowly moving
into the spotlight in terms of aircraft, and around them explosions bursts
"It’s our anti-aircraft guns that bombard the fascists, ”papa explains to me.
At home we have vanity and concern! A grandmother, Aunt of Paradise and her daughter Lucy,
came to us from Kiev. Later comes and grandfather with a half-empty bag. Grandmother scolds
him for something. Then I found out that he didn’t take any things with him, but brought a bunch
of keys to the apartment ..
After some time, we are grandmother, grandfather, Lucy, Aunt Raya and I load into a two-axle
freight car (there are no such cars now) - “ warmth ".
“Teplushka” is a wooden freight car converted for transporting people. At the entrance at the
sliding doors hung a ladder type ladder. The floor of the car is located quite high from the surface
of the earth and it is not so easy to climb the ladder into the car if there are no high platforms at
the station. Inside the car is equipped with a solid plank across the car - from wall to wall. Nary
can be in one or two floors. In the center of the car there is an iron stove with a pipe into the cut-
through roof of the car.
Around the stove free space.
In our teplushke Nara were one floor. One side of the car, i.e. The bunks were occupied by
children recovering from the disease and the nannies accompanying them. The second half of the
carriage was occupied by us and some other families or one family — I don’t remember.
 After loading our car was at the station for a long time. He was transported from place to place.
And only in the morning we finally went. Then, I heard them say that the train to which they wanted
to hang us, and which had left at night, was bombed.
Our train went very slowly, often stopped and stood for a long time.
They said that we were going through Moscow and I was glad that I would see Moscow - I had
never been there before. But I did not see any Moscow, either on the second or the third day. And
then they said that we had already passed Moscow.
The ultimate goal of our trip was the city of Alma-Ata. The fact is that in Alma-Ata, Uncle Mitya,
the grandmother’s youngest son, studied at a military school. And when the question of our
evacuation was resolved, Uncle Mitya sent a telegram: “Come - the apartment is secured”. So we
went, but not immediately, while Dad managed to organize places in this “hot house”. And we
rode for a very long time, I think, not less than a month.
In the car ran its own life. At the stations they bought food, stocked up with cold water and boiling
water, relieved their need - there was, of course, no toilet in the car.
It is sometimes surprising to me how these long-standing events of childhood pop up in my
memory, and how sometimes I can’t remember what happened quite recently!
I remember the “tea drinking” of hot water with sugar dissolved in it and exclamation of Aunt
Rai: “True, tasty!” Yes, it was really tasty.
I met the children of the second half of the car. With some friends. They did not rise from their
bunk, lay or sat. They were all dressed the same, all were short-haired. With one of them, I made
friends more. Later, one of this company scornfully informed me: “You are friends with her, and
you know that this is a girl!” I was somewhat discouraged - it was considered shameful for boys
to be friends with girls, but I continued our friendship, seeing the testing eyes on my face this girl.
I admired how these children could drink water, which they poured from the kettle into their
mouths
(they did not touch the spout of the kettle) and they, without closing their mouths, swallowed the
water. I tried to repeat this trick, but I did not succeed. An interesting exercise was the
contemplation of the landscapes, sailing past the car. To do this, you had to stand on the bench
near a small window-hatch. In this lesson, my younger cousin Lucy joined me. We were in conflict
with her, probably for the position at the window, she squeaked and complained to her mother.
But in the face of my grandmother, I always found reliable protection and, probably, abused it.
Much later, I understood why grandma always held my side. After all, Lucy accounted for her
the same granddaughter as I did with my grandson: ... I did not have a mother and grandmother,
as I could, tried to replace her with me.
One day, early in the morning, when I was still asleep, such a story happened. I woke up from
the alarming voice of Aunt Rai. The train was going, and our fellow travelers tried to calm her
down. I realized that something terrible had happened. I opened my eyes and found that there was
no grandmother or grandfather in the car! It turns out that early in the morning, when the train
stopped, the grandmother got off in need. But the stop was short, and the grandmother was unable
to catch up with the moving car. Grandpa, seeing this, jumped out of the car - they are left behind!
A very frequent situation of that time with unpredictable consequences.
Aunt Rai's position was awful too! She was left alone with two children, besides, she was
pregnant. I shut up and become prickly and angry. Aunt Paradise scolded me, but our neighbors
in the carriage stood up for me: “See, the child is also worried ...”
I do not remember how long the further journey lasted. We were supposed to arrive at some
junction station where the transfer was coming.
 And so, we arrived there and, oh joy, on the platform we were met by grandmother and
grandfather !!! Our happiness knew no bounds!
It turns out that when they fell behind, they turned to local railway authorities for help, and they
were put in a passenger train going in the same direction. Thus, they arrived at this station before
us. The world is not without good people!
Then we again went to the “greenhouse”, in which there was no stove, and there was a huge hole
in the car roof, and it was very cold. Then there was a passenger train. The car in which we were
traveling was crowded.
In this train, Aunt Raya stole a handbag with documents and money. She said that her purse was
lying under the pillow on which she was sleeping. And at night, she felt that someone was touching
the pillow, but she thought that her grandmother was straightening ...
Aunt Raya suspected the wagon conductors. The evidence was a drop of wax from their lantern on
the bed. But nothing helped - the bag with all its contents was gone!
I don’t remember the fact of arrival in Alma-Ata, but I remember the station square all populated
by the same refugees as us.
Everywhere there were clusters of chests, knots, suitcases and all kinds of junk. Someone
managed to sit in the shade of stunted trees, on paved grounds and other “comfortable” places.
We also took an acceptable position. Grandma and Grandpa went to the city to search for Mitya.
They did not return soon, upset and dejected. On the eve of our arrival, the entire school in which
Mitya studied was sent to the front. And no more information!
Our station life has begun. I do not remember all the details of how and where we ate, but from
time to time we stood in line to get to the station dining room. We slept dressed in our bales and
suitcases. Sometimes baths were organized for the refugees, the grandmother did not entrust me
to my grandfather, and I went with her, Lucy and Aunt Raia, to wash in the women's section.
It was a period when I and many suffered from severe stomach upset (diarrhea). And the whole
district in the area of the square was filthy.
Time passed, probably, it was already deep autumn, because at nights it was rather cold. Perhaps
that was why there were nights on a bench in the station building. That is, I was lying on the bench,
and my grandmother was sitting at my head. Moreover, both legs could not be pressed at the same
time, since on the free space that hour someone sat down. And then there was no way to straighten
the legs. Therefore, I was asleep and all the time I had to keep in mind to straighten and bend my
legs in turns. Naturally, I did not always succeed. And then for a long time I had a complex not to
sleep with bent legs.
Analyzing now those hellish living and material conditions, I think that we children endured them
more easily than adults. We did not feel any responsibility and were somehow protected by adults,
but what was it like for them, adults, where and how they slept, who looked after things, and much
more!
Finally, all this accumulation of people began to be loaded onto on-board cars (“trucks”) and to
push (transport) across villages. My grandmother and grandfather came to the village of
Uritskoe, Taldykorgan district, Lucy and my mother - to some other village, not far from us.
 Я нашёл карту этих мест.

Uritskoe village turned out to be Russian. The house, whose owners accepted us, was small. The
kitchen, it’s an entrance hall, with a mud floor and a large Russian stove, and maybe the stove
seemed to me big - I hadn’t seen such stoves before. Through the kitchen-hallway entrance to the
long room, I do not remember, there were one or two rooms. The windows in the house were
small. Exit from the kitchen to the courtyard - through the vestibule, in which stood a tub with
salted cabbage.
We settled in the kitchen-hallway. In the interval between the wall and the stove there was a bed,
opposite the stove, by the window was a table with chairs. You could sleep on the stove. In this
oven it was possible to cook in cauldrons. Cauldrons were installed in the furnace with special
tongs after the furnace was well warmed up and all the coals (the furnace was heated with coal)
were removed from it. Food was subjected to a uniform heat, long-term processing and was very
tasty. In the same oven it was possible to bake bread. In the long cold winter, it warmed and kept
warm well, but for this it was necessary to have ό-time, when all the coals were burned, to close
the valve in the pipe. But it was worth noting a small piece of unburned coal in the stove, as CO
was accumulated in the room, usually at night, when we were all asleep. But my grandmother
was an experienced countryman and quickly determined it. I woke up and washed my head and
myself with very hot water and it helped. Of course, the source was eliminated beforehand - a
piece of unburned coal. I did not understand at that time how dangerous we were! Electricity, of
course, was not, lighting - a kerosene lamp. Glass for the lamp - a huge shortage. In order to
better keep the glass on it hung a hairpin. But “the need for invention is cunning,” they learned
how to make glass for a lamp from an ordinary glass bottle. True, it often burst - thick glass. I
later earned credibility with this knowledge of mine. And the glass was made very simple: the
thread was moistened with gasoline, alcohol or kerosene, which I don’t remember exactly, then
it was wound tightly around the bottom of the bottle and set on fire. The bottle, however, was
held horizontally in the hand and rotated slightly. When the glass was warm enough, it was
doused with cold water. With a neat job, a smooth chip was obtained - the glass for the lamp is
ready. True, in size it did not fit into the holder. But the question was solved simply: a stand was
cut out of the tin.
Near the house along the street aryk flowed - a source of water. There was no toilet, we went
out of the barn for need, or out of the thicket of bushes and grass in a natural depression in the
ground.
There were several buildings in the yard: a cowshed with a cow, a pig house with piglets, a
chicken house for geese and chickens. Firewood was kept in one of the buildings. And for the
winter in the same shed, with the first frosts, the carcasses of clogged geese were hung up - a
natural freezer. There was also a doghouse with a German Shepherd dog chain.
I think that we lived in this village a year, or a little less. I remember all four seasons: a long
winter, when we were so covered in snow that we had to clear the way out of the house. And the
passages in the snow were taller than me (I was in my eighth year). And spring, when everything
was melting, streams murmured and the bright sun glittered in the sky, and I and the local boys
ran to the dam to see how the ice was moving. The boys jumped from the ice to the ice,
overcoming cracks. I followed them, but on the way back one crack seemed very wide to
overcome it. I was scared and did not jump. All the boys went ahead and watched with curiosity
what I would do! I began to ask to give me a hand, someone shouted: “Do not give it!” But still I
found one and gave me my hand, and I jumped over the crack. I came home with my wet shoes.
The boys treated me like a stranger. I was different for them, not local, familiar. I was different
from them. And I and they felt it, and the time for this estrangement to disappear had passed
little.
My grandfather immediately after his arrival in the village went to work at the collective farm.
At workday they gave wheat. My grandfather and I went to a local mill to grind it into flour.
I remember one episode associated with the recollections of the grandfather.
A huge chain dog in the yard of the house in which we lived somehow got used to us in time. To
go on all toilet affairs it was necessary past his doghouse. It always happened calmly. But one
day he suddenly ceased to admit to himself and growled menacingly: beside him lay a bloody
piece of something. The owners of the house was not. I complained to my grandfather. He went
out and boldly went to the dog. She growled menacingly, baring her teeth, but grandfather
slowly calmly approached her. I was scared! When the grandfather was very close, the dog
rushed at him and made a movement, as if biting his leg, but did not bite him. He stroked her,
and she calmed down. This event allowed me to establish myself in the opinion of my
grandfather’s sufficient courage. I also want to say that my grandfather was a very pious and
deeply religious man. Many times I saw him praying with thales thrown over his shoulders, I saw
how ritually he put tefillin on his hand and forehead. He sought to comply with all the
requirements of the tori, I will not list them, and I don’t know them all. I received an atheistic
upbringing and did not have any respect for the belief that today I consider wrong - it is
necessary to respect the beliefs of others, even if you consider them to be wrong. So, I am
confident in my absolute rightness, with childlike maximalism I tried to re-educate my
grandfather. And once he came to such rudeness that he tried to put lard in his mouth ... How he
endured these my antics, I just wonder!
There was probably a difficult period with food, just so I understand why grandma agreed with
the owners that I dined with them. “Leon, we go to supper!” - they invited me. I must say that I
was pleased to have dinner with them, and they cooked delicious.
Once I got sick. There was no doctor in the village. Grandmother and grandfather anxiously
conferred in Yiddish. Something has been decided!
Then my grandfather carried me on his shoulders for a long time, and my grandmother
accompanied us to the regional center of Alty-Namel (I’m not sure that my name was written
correctly), where the doctor was.
We lived in the village, and I learned about village life. I learned, looking, as the hostess does,
to determine that the laying hen is about to lay an egg and made sure that she did not lay it in the
grass, where no one would find it. I learned that the goose is not such a harmless bird and can
stand up for itself. I saw milk separating milk from cream. I watched as they salted cabbage for
the winter and helped to push it with a stupa until a liquid brine appeared. I chased through the
village for domestic pigeons, hoping to find at least one. And the grandmother, spoiling her
grandson, bought for me from the pigeons of a young dove. In the pigsty, a huge pig fed newborn
piglets. One day she unsuccessfully lay on her side and pressed her to the wall of her piglets. He
began to squeal frantically, but she, not realizing what was happening, was grunting stupidly ...
For some reason, this episode then often reminded me of people's relationships when one person
could not understand the misfortunes of another. In winter, I loved to fall asleep on the Russian
stove, looking into the small window, where the blizzard twisted its dance. And at my feet the cat
purred sweetly. In the evenings, my grandmother often read to me an endless story about “The
Brother of the Rabbit and the Brother Fox”.

This is a photo of Busy (Paul) from some document.

It is strange to me - 1942 is indicated on the back of the photo. But, as far as I remember, there was no connection with any of the
grandmother’s sons during the war !?

Sometimes she talked to me, worrying about her sons at the front, from whom there was no
news. I, as I could, tried to calm her down. And, it seems to me, sometimes it was possible.
Some day my dad arrived! How he found us, I do not know! At first he worked as a doctor in this
village. I remember how he was horrified by the lack of sanitation in some children's institution.
But very soon he went to work as the head physician at the hospital at Sary-Ozek station. He got
an apartment for us there, and we moved to Sary-Ozek.
The move was very long. With all our belongings, we were loaded onto a cart with harnessed
horses, and a very long and tedious journey began among monotonous red hills (the soil here is
red clay) covered with very poor vegetation.
Finally, we arrived. Tired horses could not get a cart out of a pothole a few meters from our
house.
The driver harnessed the horses and went with them for the night. And we dragged our things to
a new apartment.
Our new apartment was a single room on the first floor of a two-storey building. The room had a
stove, to which was later attached a stove to cook on it. In the center of the ceiling there was a
light bulb dangling on the wire, which was a great advance after the village. Yes, there was still
a radio point, a black plate the same as we had in Kursk. On this radio point, I later enjoyed
listening to various children's programs.
It was 1942. I was already over eight years old. It was time to go to schoolme to school
 (they tookfrom the age of eight). But until September there was still time and my dad identified
me in the so-called “Playground”, where I could stay for half a day and where I was fed. For
some reason, soups that we were fed on this “Playground”, filled with sunflower oil, the taste of
which I could not stand and mercilessly salted this soup, to muffle the taste and smell of
sunflower oil, remained in my memory about this time.
There was another way to diversify our diet. While walking through the red hills, we collected
wild green onions, which helped us improve the taste of our food.
Soon dad went to the front. And some time later, Fanya arrived - she was at the front. I do not
know the details, but I understand that according to some laws the exchange was made.

War time photo of dad..

Dad had a “reservation”, i.e. protection from the army, which extended to all those who had to
do with the railway. And dad worked in the hospital railway department.
Perhaps this one-year delay saved his life. He did not get into a terrible confusion of the first
year of the war. Three of my uncles, from my mother's side and one with my father, did not
return from the war! They started it from day one.

This photograph is from Fani from some document.

I think the times of the war (I tried to remove the damage).

So, I was preparing for school. Textbooks were issued at school, there were practically no
notebooks, only in a slanting line for “penmanship”. We wrote in books in the Kazakh language
between the printed lines. The necessary school preparation items included a briefcase, a glass
vial (bottle) for purple ink. The ink itself was obtained by dissolving special tablets — a dirty job,
and for some reason chemical inks were called ink. The ink vial was placed in a specially
connected knot with the same knitted handle that it was comfortable to carry while holding the
briefcase and the “ink bottle” in one hand. There were, of course, non-spill ink tanks, but it was
impossible to get them. Fan was preparing me for school. Aunt Raya - Lucina's mother, she was
a teacher, also took an active part in my preparation for school. By this time, Lucy had a sister
Nana.

Люся и я, 1942 г. Я готов к школе

Сары-Озек.

The school was across the street from our house. My first teacher was named Gennady
Zasimovich. We all loved him. Although he, when he walked between the desks, the guilty clicked
wooden handle (which they wrote) on the head. Sometimes, in his hands turned out to be a
wooden pencil case, and it was already quite painful. For some reason, I never fell through,
either because Fanya had a solid position in this village, or because I was a good child. I began
to study quite well: in the table for the first grade, the grades were “excellent” and there were
one or two “good”. In the second class another teacher came - Gennady Zasimovich was taken
to the front. My progress in school by the end of the school year was significantly reduced. Fana
was called to school about this. But it was already time when we were going to leave Sary-Ozek.
At school, children of front-line soldiers were given free “lunches” during a big break. In order
to get such a “dinner” you had to have your plate (usually it was a metal bowl) and a spoon. I
wore all this in a briefcase with books and notebooks. And since the children of the front-line
soldiers were many, at a big break the crowd ran at a run to the stand, which had a distribution
of “dinners”. Began crowding. You had to have time to get a “lunch”, eat it and go back to
class. The older guys, of course, pushed us first-graders. I remember that some time a bowl of
soup was poured over my head. That's probably why I remember these “dinners” so much.
In the courtyard of the new house was at first a group of older boys, who pursued me. But soon
the most avid somewhere got out. And one of them, my age, Yura Murzin, became my friend and
swore to me that these big boys made him do all sorts of dirty tricks. Yura had an older brother.
But he was smaller than Jura and us. From a certain age he stopped growing. His face was
yellow and puffy, his body was short with short legs and arms. It was because of him that Yurin’s
family moved to this region. Brother, I do not remember his name, he loved to sit in the sun and
bask. The main topic of his conversations was the question of growth:
 “Today I dreamed that I was falling - this means that I am growing,”
either he claimed or asked. Basically the house was inhabited by the same refugees as we are -
families consisting of women, children and the elderly. On long evenings, when there was no
electricity, which was very often, we gathered in the apartment of a hospitable family. There
were long stories in Yiddish about the misadventures of refugee. I understood everything and
asked Yura: “Do you understand?” He shook his head negatively, but he did not leave. The
apartment was warm and friendly atmosphere.
In the yard there were many kids of different ages. In summer, when the heat subsided, various
noisy games were started. Popular were the "blind man's buff". In the cold season, when they
were dressed in something thick, “mad bull” - everyone became round, firmly took hands,
twisted in a circle with their backs to each other and began to unwind until their hands could
stand; burst and someone rolled head over heels on the ground.
Shot slingshots on any targets. Slingshots made themselves, tires from old gas masks or auto
cameras. They launched arrows - a straw from the roofs of sheds with a steel tip - for a pencil
with the help of a spool of thread and a strip of rubber. These games were pursued by adults as
they were not safe. We loved to drive a wheel (old locomotive piston rings) with a tackle made of
wire. Steel rims of barrels made sabers and fought in earnest. I learned to "correctly" and throw
stones far enough. It was such an entertainment to throw stones at each other. At the same time it
was necessary to be able to dodge the stone flying at you. This was usually done one on one. But
somehow, when I ran across the courtyard to the lavatory
(toilet), a neighbor boy ran a stone after me and landed in the head. I did not feel any particular
pain, but I saw that there was a lot of blood flowing. I was very scared, started to cry and ran
home. Grandma took action - began to put a rag with cold water. Fan soon appeared, she was
summoned from work, she scolded her grandmother that she was drenching an open wound and
put a bandage on my head, with which I walked for a long time until the wound healed. And this
mother’s neighbor, his mother brought us to the apartment and, when we were, he was beaten
with mortal combat, and he rushed and screamed. In general, there was a lot of noise, and I still
had a scar on my head for a very long time, which I was even proud of.

I'm with a homemade saber. 1944.

It should tell you about the toilet-toilet, in which I was so eager. In fact, this is a common
cesspool, above which a wooden structure with booths and holes in the floor of each booth is
installed. The pit periodically, as it was filled, was cleaned with a special ashenizator machine.
During this procedure, it was impossible to be in the area up to several hundred meters - there
was an incredible stench. Being in this “toilet”, even for a short time, subsequently required a
lengthy ventilation in the summer, since clothes and just the body was saturated with a steady
“aroma”. Green flies swarmed around and inside the toilet. Such was the prose of this life. It
may seem to someone that I write too much about toilets. But all this: the water is hot and cold,
the way of heating the apartment, washing and the toilet and everything in our present life,
which we take as the norm and somehow do not notice it, will become very significant problems
when they are absent in the current form.
In the summer, all the guys went barefoot. I learned it too. At first it was very difficult, but then
the skin on my legs became hard and I began to run barefoot on a par with everyone. I wanted to
keep up with my peers and even stand out with something special. And I boasted that I could say
abusive words in the presence of adults. What these words were, what they meant, I had no idea,
but I and all my comrades knew that these were bad words. Then, one day, when my
grandmother, who had low hearing, was talking in the courtyard with her neighbors, I walked
past them and said, with the testimony of my comrades, these bad words. I knew perfectly well
what level of loudness needed to be given to my voice so that grandmother did not understand
anything. The neighbors looked at me in horror and tried to draw the attention of my
grandmother to the fact that I was saying some nasty things. But my grandmother too believed in
my integrity, but maybe she didn’t want to attach much importance to this. But I, thus, showed
“heroism” in the eyes of my yard comrades.
In the unbearable heat, we played pebbles on the cement floor under the stairs in the front door
or went for a swim in some technical reservoir. From red clay, which was in abundance here, we
loved to sculpt all sorts of toys - mostly it was tanks and airplanes. We often roamed these red
clay hills overgrown with barbed vegetation. Once we saw military exercises there. We decided
to get close to the group of Red Army soldiers who are in a natural shelter. They did not drive us
away, asked about our fathers - all fathers were at the front. The soldiers gave each of us a
colored pencil, but not round, but faceted. And then we were very proud of both the meeting and
the gift! We also had other different games and entertainments - you can't list them all. But it is
characteristic that everything was built on homemade products. Finished toys were very rare. So
I had a pistol that shot with rubber suction sticks - the lust of my friends. But once I traded him
for a chick who I wanted to shoot with slingshots for fun. Entertainment was often cruel. So,
hiding behind the barn, the young torturers tried to hang the kitten. After all, there was a war
and messages about hanging were heard often. And when some people now say that horror films
and TV shows do not affect the children's mind, I think this is utter nonsense. They are very
influential!
Every month I received the magazine Murzilka, which my friends and I were looking forward to.
I remember one rhyme from this magazine, or rather the content. It was about a boy who “...
wanders all day, wandering pale, like a shadow. I go and regret everything, that I do not get well
... "and so on, he regrets that he will not be accepted into the army, and he begins to actively
engage in sports, becomes healthy and" ... cheers, they will accept me in the army! " I also had a
journal book that I knew by heart, called “Blitz Fritz” with pictures of Kukryniks, I don’t know
whose poems. Here's a sample:

Young Fritz - mother's favorite.

He came to the class to take an exam.
They ask him the question:
 “Why does the fascist have a nose?”
Fritz responds instantly:
“To sniff out treason
And scribble denunciations at all -
That's why the nose is fascist”
and so on.
Or:
During the day, the fascist told the peasants:
“A hat from the head off!”
At night, he gave the partisans
Kask along with his head!

All this was accompanied by expressive drawings Kukryniksov. Or rather, under the pictures
that I remember, but I cannot reproduce, there were these poems. In general, with books to read
was not thick. Yes, and the textbooks were old, used many times, in which the commanders
declared “enemies of the people” were sealed or boldly crossed out.

A grandfather and grandmother actively acquired the economy. Each family of the house was
allocated a nook in the row of sheds located in the courtyard opposite the house. My
grandparents made another extension from adobe. We got chickens, two goats, a pig was fed for
sale, there was a cow. I do not remember that we were starving. But for some reason, the
delicacy was seed cake - waste from the manufacture of sunflower oil. We children gnawed him
with a big appetite. Bread and products were on the cards, on the cards was drinking water.
Once the store did not appear the usual black, and white fluffy bread. Rumor of this instantly
spread throughout the village. Who managed to buy it, but it was not very good in taste - like
cotton wool.
As a child, I did not think about where the funds were for the purchase of the entire necessary
economy, which made it possible not to starve in these difficult conditions of war. Obviously,
there were some savings. One evening, I saw my grandparents discussing something, counting a
few gold coins, as I understand it, of tsarist minting. For some reason, I knew that it was
dangerous to have that kind of money and should not talk about it, and this did not affect my
children's interests. I had my own farm: in the barn in a barrel lived turtles, which I fed with
fresh grass; In the basket, fastened on the wall near my bed, there lived a chick, whom I also had
to feed. True, once there was a tragedy. The neighbor cat entered the room and somehow pulled
my chick and safely ate it. I, at the same time, was not at home. My grandmother told me about
what happened. I then pursued this cat endlessly so that she, seeing me, promptly ran away. I
had another lesson to feed some chickens from the brood of our chicken. These chickens were
made tame. Seeing me, they rushed, ran up and squeaked peered into my hands. I always saved
for them crumbs, flies, and the like.
In our house, everyone suffered from the invasion of bedbugs. There was such a moment that it
became impossible to sleep at night. With bedbugs waged an endless struggle. In the summer, the
bed and bed were carried out into the yard, in the sun. The bed was burned with a primus - it
was iron, and they greased kerosene in the corners. After this treatment, the bugs retreated, but
not for long.
For families of veterans, garden plots were allocated that were far enough away. Occasionally
we gathered with the whole family and went to this site, I do not exactly remember how much,
but for a very long time. There it was necessary to organize watering, digging through the
groove from the aryk, and of all the garden works.
I remember that for some reason there, in the garden, Fanya told me that a funeral had come to
Uncle Mitya, and that my grandmother did not know anything and that I shouldn’t let it slip. And
until my death, my grandmother did not find out about it and waited for any of the sons to return!
The way back from the gardens was always very heavy and long, and after this message it
seemed endless. I wanted to cry, but it was impossible - my grandmother was walking nearby.
From dad came letters from the front. I also wrote to him - the initiative came from Fanny.
Initially, these letters were a demonstration of my achievements at school, i.e. single words, but
later these were phrases.

Daddy photos from the front.1943

At some time, Fania asked me to call her mom, the arguments were very different. It was not
easy for me, but Fanya was very tactful and I started calling her mom.

Fanya with me. 1943

Many years later, when Fania was married to Nathan and she had a son Fima, and I was a
student at the institute, my grandmother once said to me: “You call her mother — I am your
mother.” I always felt this special relationship with me grandmother, but for some reason,
Fanya was my greatest authority in the family.
Fanya was very strict with me. I remember that I was guilty of something and was punished by
the fact that she did not go with me to the cinema I dreamed of watching, and no pleadings of
mine and apologies could change her decision.

Fanya and me in Kiev. 1945

But always, and I remember, when not cheap games and toys started appearing in stores, she could
fulfill my request and buy for me what I asked ...
I want to remember about sparkling water and ice cream. Even before the war, when in the summer
dad took me from kindergarten and we walked home, I knew that we would pass by a booth of
sparkling water and dad would ask me: “Would you like to drink?” And I never refused this
procedure. Yes, it was a procedure. We approached the kiosk, where there was always a line of
two or three. When the queue came up, the seller asked me: “What kind of syrup and double or
single?” If I was still thinking about the choice of syrup, then the question of double syrup was not
in doubt. Then no one knew and thought about excess sugar. I was getting a glass of sizzling,
bubbling, sweet water and drank with pleasure, feeling the tongue and throat blister tingling. And
my dad, standing nearby, also quenched thirst with pleasure. My dad always did everything with
a mood and a great desire, whether it related to food or his work. He was a very cheerful and
cheerful person. Despondency was not his destiny.
In the war years, no thoughts about sparkling water and even more about ice cream could not be.
And so, in Kiev, whether at the end of the war, or after it ended, a whole sparkling water store
appeared somewhere on Khreshchatyk. And Faney and I went there. The water there with the
syrup was not expensive, but the syrup was saccharine. I write this because not far from our house
there was a kiosk with sparkling water, where the syrup was on "pure sugar", but a glass of such
water cost so much that I did not even dare to ask for money for a glass of such water. I also
remember our trip with Faney in Kiev to the cellar, where ice cream was sold by balls. And it was
possible to order one, two or three balls of a different grade. Near the house in Kiev, it was also
possible to buy ice cream, which was sold from a mobile tray. It was a cylinder between two wafer
circles, which had to be quickly licked, otherwise it could melt and drop his pants and shirt. The
length of this ice cream cylinder depended on the conscience and greed of the seller.
As I already wrote, Lucy with her mother Raya and sister Nana also lived in Sary-Ozek. Lucy
often walked with me in the yard, i.e. was my grandmother. Nana was given to the manger. She
had a stomach upset all the time. She grew painful and weak and a year could not even stand. She
was even in the hospital for indigestion. Soon Nana fell ill again, but she was no longer able to
save her. She was dying very hard. Grandmother and Aunt Raya sat bent over the baby’s crib and
wept. Nana pulled the little breasts: “On, on ..” - asked to take her in her arms, and I did not
understand why neither grandmother nor Paradise did not do this. Someone told me that this is
Nana dying! They buried her that day. My bitterness remained in my memory all my life - I saw
death for the first time in my life! It was infinitely sorry for this little helpless creature so quickly
left this world.
During our life in Sary-Ozek, we all, except for our grandfather, had a severe disease. The account
was opened by grandmother - typhoid fever, then the same Fanya. I completed the epic - malaria.
Everyone was in the hospital where Fanya worked. When grandma returned home, she could not
walk for a long time, as she was very weak. I remember they brought a newborn calf into the room,
which could not stand, but soon began to try to stand up, and Fanya laughed, turning to her
grandmother: “Look, he will start walking before you!”
There was a period when my grandfather and I lived at home together - grandmother and Fania
were in the hospital. During the time of my illness and after my recovery, I took quinu or Akrikhin
(which I could get) in powders for a very long time. After that, all the medicines seemed sweet to
me. Hina and Akrikhin were very bitter! And from Akrikhin, I became yellow. Fanny had a
complication after the illness - a blood clot in her leg. She explained to me that it is very dangerous:
if a blood clot breaks and falls into the heart, death can occur. I was always very afraid for her.
And when we were already living in Kiev, and for a long time she hadn’t been from work - we had
to walk far from the tram. My imagination painted terrible pictures for me, and I ran at a run
along a familiar route to meet. But as a result, when I met her, she scolded me very angrily for
inventing all sorts of nonsense.
Fanya worked, as I understand it, in Sary-Ozek as chief physician. She was often called to the
sick in Kazakh villages. One day, on her return, she told how grateful villagers treated her with a
hot cake, which the women sculpted, lifted up her skirt directly on her bare leg, and then baked.
As time went. The year 1944 came. The Soviet Information Bureau (this was the name of the
organization that reported on the events at the front) reported that Kiev was liberated from the
Nazi invaders. I remember that my father wrote to us from the front, that he was in Kiev, and that
the house in which my grandmother lived survived. Charges were short-lived - we went back.
Warm-up again, again a freight train, but the mood is different! When we drove away from the
station, I saw from the carriage how the house in which we lived flashed and floated away.

The road back was also long, but few memories remained. At all stations there were a lot of trains
with people. Some moved to the west - others to the east. It then seemed to me that there was an
evil antagonism between people who were traveling in opposite directions. At one of the stations
a young guy from another car launched a stone through the open door of our car. There were
many people at the door, including myself. The stone hit the woman’s hand and ricocheted into
my head. It was very painful and insulting - I cried for a long time! On the road, my grandfather
fell ill. For some reason he decided that he was dying and saying goodbye to everyone. But he was
destined to live to be 90 years old. With us in the car drove new friends, also in Kiev. Among them
were many children. I made friends with one boy. I don't remember his name, let's call him Marik.
Marik was a couple of years older than me and was a great authority for me. Mom told him all
about some of his heroic deeds. He himself spoke as he once crawled under the car, and the train
started moving and the wheel of the car drove over his shirt sleeve, but he managed to coolly get
out from under the car. He spoke about everything very authoritatively and conclusively.
Our appearance in the courtyard, which was left at the beginning of the war, was the most
unexpected surprise for the hostess of the house. In the apartments where grandmother and
grandfather and Aunt Raya used to live, their sons and their families lived very well. And all the
furniture left was intact and was used by them to the fullest! In our barn I found my two-wheeled
bicycle and, without hesitation, rolled it around the yard, although for me it was already too small.
After quite lengthy negotiations on high tones, the hostess instilled us into her apartment. I do not
remember how long we lived in the apartment of the hostess. But every day there were verbal
battles. Our apartments were not released to us, but they gave us some in the basement on
Bolshaya Vasilkovskaya Street. Aunt Paradise with Lucy also received some sort of garret, where
I do not remember. The apartment we moved to was big enough, but it was terribly neglected and
the whole was underground. We arranged the first room, which had one window. The top edge of
the window was at ground level. In the rest of the rooms, how many they did not know, it was scary
to enter. There was darkness and it was very damp! Why we did not release our legitimate
apartments, I do not know. Maybe because the sons of the hostess worked in the police, which was
also surprising - after all, under the Germans, they were policemen! Maybe there were other
reasons ..
Much later, when I was no longer in Kiev, grandmother and grandfather received their apartment
on Sovskaya Street, and the mistress’s sons served their time in prison, but no one knows whether
enough ?!
Kiev at that time shuddered from anti-Semitism! This dirt climbed from all cracks!
I remember one terrible incident that I did not see with my own eyes, but which was talked about
a lot in a whisper and with a shudder. I remember the event itself. I was at home when there was
some unusual noise coming from the street. A frightened friend of ours ran into the apartment and
began to explain what was happening on the street. I wanted to go see, but my grandmother did
not let me go. Moreover, she told her grandfather to immediately bring home to Lucy, who at that
time was on the street. Today, putting together everything that happened then and what I
understood from the conversations later, this event can be stated as follows:
“At that moment, when I heard this strange noise from the street, a heated crowd of people was
moving along a very wide street Bolshaya Vasilkovskaya pursuing a running woman, shouting
insulting anti-Semitic curses and throwing stones at her! The reason for this, as they later said,
was the clash of two men, one of whom was her husband. He was an officer who returned from the
front. His neighbor, who also returned from the front, but not in the officer's rank for some reason
began to insult him, hinting at his Jewish nationality. To which the officer grabbed a pistol and
shot at the offender. The neighbors attacked the officer and started beating him. And his wife tried
to protect her husband, but was then forced to flee ... ”
I don’t know the further fate of the direct participants in these events. But all subsequent night,
this area of Kiev was patrolled by the mounted police - they were afraid of pogrom.
Some time later, we were improved living conditions and provided a two-room apartment in the
same place on Bolshaya Vasylkovskaya, across the street in the house, which was located at the
entrance to the bazaar. Fania got a job as a doctor in a concentration camp for German prisoners.
This camp was very far from our house. Urban transport worked poorly. Before the first tram stop
you had to walk for 20-30 minutes. Then there were transplants, I do not remember how much,
and again a foot transition through the cemetery. It seems to me that Fania did not go to work
every day, but there were daily duties. My grandfather and I traveled to her work repeatedly, and
in winter, even on foot. “Evbazi” (Jewish bazaar) passed by - a circus is now located there, a part
of the road, the grandfather drove me on a sled.
With the move to the apartment at the bazaar grandfather engaged in commerce. I got up early in
the morning before dawn, when the villagers came from the villages with their products for sale,
and bought from them in bulk, for example, apples. And then the whole day selling them at retail
is more expensive. It was pursued by the police and called speculation. But I saw in the bazaar
many old people and old women who earned their living by this means. And I can not say that it
was an easy way. I saw here once, as a soldier-soldier sold his medals to a policeman in a dark
corner.
All household chores: laundry, cleaning, cooking, childcare (me and Lucy) lay on my
grandmother. I remember her washing: a trough with a washboard, boiling on a primus stove, a
room filled with steam and moisture. I did not like such days. I remember that in our home menu
the meat was very rare, and I dreamed of roast. And the grandmother did fake roast, i.e. it was a
potato stew, the same brown in color as in a real roast, but without meat. With the beginning of
the school year, I went to school - 3rd grade. My friends quickly began to appear. There were also
classmates and neighbors from nearby homes. Among those whom I remember were my namesake
Lenya, Aba, Ilchik (I call who I remember as whom, by name, whom by name), Grinya, and many
others. We were very friendly with Lenya, he lived next door. I met him again in Kiev in 1953, but
the friendship did not return. Aba found me in Odessa when I was already married and had
children. He worked at a Moscow film studio and boasted that in the credits of the film Ordinary
Fascism is his last name. He and in our childhood always loved something to brag. We
communicated with him while he was in Odessa ... The
classes at the school were more formal. Teachers changed several times during the school year.
None of the teachers I have no memories. The lessons were held in violent battles (the school was
male) and it was not rare that the showdown continued beyond the school, on the street. "Duelists"
surrounded by a group of fans - they are judges. Everything ended quickly enough: before the first
tears or blood from the nose - we were ten years old.
But in the classroom there was an exchange of fire through our pen-tubes with paper lumps from
the mouth. And when it was necessary to write, which was not often, the tip with a pen on one side
and a pencil — on the other, this tube was put into place and the “warlike weapon” turned into a
very peaceful subject for writing. Another more formidable "weapon" was also used. A thin elastic
band was worn over two fingers, and the shooting was carried out with bullets rolled up from
paper. These paper bullets stung very painfully. And the passive observer got the most, so there
were no passive ones. The forbidden method was to shoot bullets from a wire, but there were also
violators of a law that was not written. All this was accompanied by violent cries and it became
clear why the teachers changed so often.
Nevertheless, in spring our entire class was accepted into the pioneers. The procedure ended with
a campaign in a deserted place in the country and shooting at targets with a small-caliber rifle.
We were given three patrons. We are located on one hill, and on the opposite - target. I never held
in my hands a real, albeit small-caliber rifle. I didn’t get to any place of the target - not even
“milk.” Once a man came to our class from a local club, it seems to be named after Frunze, which
was on the corner of Bolshaya Vasilkovskaya and Sovskaya. He invited us to sing our favorite
songs. I do not remember what we sang, but tried at full throat. And he approached everyone and
listened. It turned out that this man was the head of a children's choir at the club, and he recruited
children to the choir. When this cacophony of screaming gulp ended, he pointed his finger at
several of the guys and invited them to come to the choir. I found myself in this number.
I went to the choir with pleasure. We were divided into two groups of voices: first, high voices and
second - low. I found myself in a group of low voices.
“Caderser lived richly - the first voices
chanted Caderuel lived richly, picked up the second.
 He bought a house without a roof - he bought the first
house without a roof! - again, we are second
And all together: Yes, yes, yes it is!
Kaderusel is a big freak! ”

I don’t remember all this very funny and funny song.

My son Sanya, after reading this part of my memories, found the lyrics of the song on the Internet:
French folklore, it turns out.
Kade Roussel lived richly,
Kade Roussel lived richly,
He bought a
house without a roof, He bought a house without a roof.
In summer, swallows nest in it,
Jackdaws huddle under the roof -
Yes, yes, yes, it is like this:
Kade Roussel is a big freak.

Roussel has three coins,

Roussel has three coins,
No more money in your pocket, no
more money in your pocket.
Duty to pay, he gives the word,
Money in the bag hides again ...
Yes, yes, yes, it is:
Kade Roussel is a big freak.

He got two caftans,got

Hetwo caftans,
Yes, he sewed a third paper,, he
Yessewed a third paper.
In the rain and frost, it is important that he
wears a caftan, his own paper,
Yes, yes, yes, it is like this:
Kade Roussel is a big freak.

He did not grow hair with hair,

He did not grow hair with hair,
There is only a lock of three hair,
There is only a lock of three hair.
He weaves them into a braid tightly,
If you go for a walk with a girlfriend,
Yes, yes, yes, it is:
Kade Roussel is a big freak.
And, even, I found on the “youtube” a performance of this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=wwk6E6P7Ly8

There were other songs on military and patriotic themes, but this first one we learned very much
liked.
In the choir, I lasted not long, for several months - until the first performance on the stage of our
club. The fact is that with a musical ear, I did not care and, it happened, I was fake, especially
when I started to get worried.
After lengthy rehearsals, our first public appearance at the club was scheduled. Parents, relatives,
friends, acquaintances, etc. were invited.
We were built backstage. We rehearsed before going out. Suddenly our manager pointed a finger
at me and said: “You don’t go out on the stage!”
But my self-esteem leaped up: all my friends, relatives gathered to listen to me, but not me! And I,
breaking the ban, went out to sing with the whole chorus. Seeing me on stage, our leader began to
cast menacing glances in my direction. And after the performance he gave me a dressing at all the
guys. I didn’t appear at the choir rehearsal, and I didn’t say anything at home or why I left the
choir - I was ashamed!
Our free time entertainment. In the summer game with a knife. A circle was drawn on the
ground and the devil was divided in half. Then the knife tossed so that it stuck into the ground on
the half of the enemy and cut off a piece in the direction of the blade and attached to your part of
the circle. It was a kind of imitation of war. The one who conquered the whole territory of the
circle won. Ride on homemade scooters. A scooter was made to me by captive Germans from a
concentration camp in which Fanya worked. In winter - ice skating and sledding. I do not
remember the ball in the games, probably the ball itself was in short supply. The skates were
called “Snow Maidens”, in a very smart way they were fastened with ropes to felt boots or boots.
We rode on the trampled snow of the pavement. On sleds were rolling with various slides, lying
on his stomach on sleds, managed hanging legs. It was necessary to learn, but it was possible to
fall into a hole, rolling along the winding edge.
I want to tell a story with a scooter, not with mine, with a completely stranger. Even when on
arrival in Kiev we lived on Sovskaya, I made friends with a very pleasant boy. We played a lot
together. Once he arrived on his scooter. We took turns riding it. I really enjoyed riding a
scooter, and I asked him to leave me a ride. He hesitated, but then agreed and warned me, the
boys can take the scooter. I said I would be careful. To celebrate, I drove away on a scooter far
away and met Marik, with whom we rode on a train. He really liked this scooter, and he asked
him to lend a scooter. I said this is not my scooter. But he, being a great authority for me,
managed to take the scooter away from me. After some time, when I met him and asked to return
the scooter, he said with conviction: "Why do you worry that this friend of yours will salt us on
the tail?" I showed cowardice and gave him. After that I carefully avoided meetings with my
friend, then we left with Sovskaya. But I still somehow met this comrade and, on his natural
question about the scooter, he mumbled, lowering his eyes, his own version: "The boys took
away." This lie never again allowed me to compromise with my conscience, even if there was
indisputable authority behind it!
In the year of our arrival I saw a lot of destroyed, probably bombing, houses. A particularly sad
sight was Khreshchatyk. His right side, facing the Dnieper, was a complete mess. In the center of
the station square gaped through hole. Public transport was very small and it went badly and
was only in the central part of the city. Stalinka - the area where we lived was without transport.
It was necessary to go far to the nearest tram. The tram rails laid along the Bolshaya
Vasylkovskaya street were rusty and overgrown with grass. I even somehow dreamed that the
tram went on these rails, but it was just a dream!
However, I got to the city center quite often. Fan, when she was in the city, took me with her.
And when I started having a problem with the front tooth, a good dentist took in the house on
Bogdan Khmelnitsky Square, then I often went to the city center. Several times I went with
Faney, and then on my own. I learned to get on the tram at the last stop one of the first (at the
stop there was always a crowd of people) and took a seat. It was very interesting for me to drive
to the city myself and to watch everything happening from the window of the tram, it was nice to
feel my independence and freedom.
Once I invited my comrade with me on such a trip. After my visit to the doctor, we decided to go
down the funicular to the Dnieper. It was very cool, but we had only one money for the way back
to the cable car. We tried in vain to find a coin on the ground. Finally, they decided to go
through the turntable together, huddling close to each other and using the fact that my friend
was shorter than me and the cashier did not notice him, or maybe he just pretended not to notice.
We got home safely, but did not report our adventures at home.
It was already spring 1945. I remember well on May 8, when it became known that the war was
over. Joyful crowds on the streets and general rejoicing! It seemed that everything acquired a
different color, everything breathed life, and spring contributed to this! Spring of 1945
The further I write about the events that touched me, the harder it becomes for me to do it. I strive
to write the truth about what happened to me and people close to me. Life is not easy! And I am
very afraid that those who will read this in another life and at another time will not be able to
understand everything that moved people and what was happening in their souls ... I myself still
have not figured it all out and can only build guesses about whom I don’t want to write, but I only
write about the facts that the witness was and which I remember! Therefore, I ask you not to judge,
but to be objective!