Historical Committee
|
|
Gathering at the Hearth: Stories Mennonites
Tell
A collection of twenty-eight stories from Mennonite History
by John E. Sharp
Herald Press, 2001
Order from Provident Bookstores or call 800-759-4447
|
When many Russian Mennonites emigrated from Russia in the 1870s and the 1920s, a significant number remained. The turmoil of World War II caused another exodus of German-speaking Russians. Those who were overtaken by the Communist Army were "repatriated" and sent to slave labor camps in Siberia. Many others were killed in bombing raids on the cities in which they sought refuge. This is the story of the Rempel family, who against many odds, succeeded in escaping to the West in the 1940s.Readers also need to remember that the same German government and military which protected these Russian Mennonites was responsible for killing millions of Jews and other victims. Some Mennonites, unfortunately, probably cooperated in such crimes. The retreat of the German Army in 1943 signified the exodus for many of us who were Mennonites - the farewell to our homes and the abandonment of the family thresholds which our forefathers had established nearly 150 years before. We saw the portents of this destiny; it had to come and it came sooner than many expected. Soon we would have to leave our homes, gardens, and farmyards. We would have to journey to distant lands and part from our meadows, fields, valleys, and the old Dnieper River never to meet again. On the other hand, we might remain and later be sent to the frigid land of Siberia where in all probability, through unbearable tortures, most would succumb to the frightfulness of their persecutors. Leaving Einlage September, 1943, will never by forgotten by the people of Old Colony. It was a severe, unmerciful month sorely wounding the spirit of many a father and mother and robbing forever all enthusiasm for life. The last days of September were days of preparation; clothes, kitchen utensils, etc. were packed in trunks. All were to be transported into Germany. We loaded our baggage on the train and spent our first night at the railway awaiting our departure. On the night of September 29 we left - the train of thirty cars carrying 997 persons. The evening before I had gone the length of the train looking for relatives. The people stood at the open doors of the cars gazing for the last time upon Einlage. Many could not restrain their tears. Some began to sing, but the songs died away. Only on the third day were we told that our train was destined for Lodz (Litzmannstadt). We were given food and drink. The crowded cars, with thirty persons in each plus baggage, made traveling particularly burdensome. There was no possibility of reclining for rest or sleep. After delousing operations at Lodz we continued to Danzig, arriving there October 10, 1943. Our train passed through the city, arriving at Neustadt two hours later. At last we had arrived at a resettlement camp. This camp was composed of ten barracks in addition to a kitchen, a hospital, a headquarters building, two laundry and bath houses, and a kindergarten. The administrator and his assistants took us into custody. Our baggage remained in the cars. We took up quarters and organized our camp group. Each room of about 19 by 13 feet was occupied by 8-10 persons. Near and under the beds the belongings were piled. The administrator acquainted us with the rules of camp life. The entire camp was enclosed by a 16-18 foot barbwire fence. No one was to leave camp. Meals were to be prepared in the kitchen and could then be taken to the barracks. Every barrack was to select a leader to assist in the program of camp administration. Soon a school was opened and the five other teachers and I from Einlage could again teach the children. While much was still wanting and we were very crowded, we could, however, ply our trade. Many found employment in the factories of the city. The refugees, however could not quiet their feelings of homesickness, and throughout the camp the old home in Einlage continued to be the subject of conversation. A train with seventy officials was stationed at the depot. We were all questioned as to name, parents, grandparents, and relatives. We were given a medical examination and at the conclusion of this process given our Deutsche Ausweise. We were now Reichsdeutsche. As "citizens" of Germany, we were expected to undertake responsibilities and accept work assigned to us. I was assigned as teacher at the municipal girls' school; other teachers were assigned to the villages. Several hundred were taken to the Speers armament works of Dresden, others were taken to Zoppot and Danzig. The youth were mobilized into the armed forces. The group transported to Dresden met with much misfortune. In Dresden their quarters consisted of an old granary without windows or doors. Their baggage did not follow. They were forced to build quarters of their own in the forests. In the fall of 1944 a group from the resettlement camp was taken to the Warthegau there to fall victims to the Red Army. Most of these people were then sent to Siberia. Thus the people of Einlage were torn asunder never again to meet one another. Many lost their lives; others, as seen above, were "repatriated"; others eventually came to Paraguay and Canada; and some remained in Germany. Only eight Einlage families remained in camp, but soon a transport of Wosnesener from the Dnjestr arrived. The barracks were again filled. At night millions of bedbugs found their way through the crevices in the walls and plagued the people. Many tried to close the crevices, others tried various powders. All in vain. The children cried, the mothers despaired. I have spent many a night out of doors. We spread our straw mattresses upon the floor and poured water upon them for some measure of protection. The Second Flight Thus we lived in the camp until January, 1945. Humans soon learn to adjust to even the worst living conditions. The situation at the front was deteriorating rapidly, the people became more restless, the Poles more arrogant because of the ill treatment they had received from the Germans. In the camp we sensed that we would have to prepare for a second flight. One day the camp officer announced to the camp inmates: "All who have relatives and friends in Germany, shall have their official papers prepared at once, as it is dangerous to remain longer in camp." Again possessions were abandoned and only necessary clothes, linens, and bedding were to be taken along. The station was already crowded with refugees from the city and vicinity. With some pushing we succeeded in boarding a construction train going directly to Dresden, also our destination. Since we found ourselves in a warehouse car, we found sitting room only on oil drums, bars, or other equipment. In this cold, drafty, and filthy car we rode five days and five nights. The express passenger train covers this distance in eight hours. Snow entered through the sagging doors and the extreme cold threatened to freeze hands and feet. In Berlin we stopped for a night, where we suffered through an air raid. This was a terrifying night, ruled by the powers of darkness. Fortunately we were unhurt. When the air had cleared in the morning we continued on our way, finally arriving in Dresden. I had read and heard much of Dresden as the city of art and culture. I now utilized all my free time to personally see all places of importance. Daily I wandered through the streets and saw the opera house, the theatre, the Zwinger Museum, the famous Frauenkirche, the royal palace, and many other buildings. On the night of January 13, 1945, Dresden experienced its first air raid, followed the next day by several more raids and Dresden lay in dust and ashes - a second Sodom and Gomorrah. The terror of the scenes of destruction is indescribable. For two weeks the fires raged. At the railroad station 5,000 refugees lost their lives. Soon the air was filled with the odor of the 200,000 partly-burned corpses. What a wretched picture of weeping and lamentation of those who were still living! Westward On March 30, 1945, we left Dresden for Bernsdorf. However, the roar of the Russian cannon gave us no rest and we were forced also to leave this place. On April 14, Martha, our daughter, and her husband, Peter, left us with a group and went west. The next evening Marie, another daughter, my wife and I and the family of Jakob Rempel left Bernsdorf with our possessions in two small wagons and for days and nights trudged westward in rain and mist. The roar of cannon followed us. We rested in hay fields, barns, and ravines. Since the bridge in Pirna was bombed out we followed the traffic north of Pirna where we found a variegated mass of refugees with horse-drawn carts, hand wagons, and many on foot. All wanted to cross the river. With some pushing we succeeded in crossing. Wet, hungry, tired, and discouraged we stood at the crossroads in Heidenau. Where now? Marie and others went into the city to find room. Refusal followed refusal until the wife of a soldier allowed us to use a room and the kitchen. Soon we were again expected to move, but I was tired and sickly. The parents of the soldier's wife offered us quarters. We were given ration cards and thus settled down for a more extended stay. In spite of the Russian victories we remained, trusting our destiny to the Lord. On May 9, 1945, the Russians arrived. To describe the events of the next three days would require a ream of paper and two weeks' time. On May 15, 1945, I was called to the city hall. The mayor and his assistants, fifteen men in all, wanted to learn the Russian language. Within a week a second group was formed and soon a third. On June 1, the course opened with thirty-eight students. Again I was a teacher. Everyday I had 2-3 hours instruction with attentive students. Marie became official translator for the police in Nieder-Sedlitz, the industrial suburban area of Dresden. A total of 83 took instruction in Russian, including teachers, officials, doctors, musicians, and actors. East or West? After a separation of eight months we received our first letter from Martha, now in the western zone. On the evening of the same day I received the official notice, "All Russo-Germans must be taken back." Through my urgent pleading and the support of my physician I could stay. I continued to teach Russian in the eighth and ninth grades. We prepared to celebrate Christmas in the family circle. However, the order to be taken back to Russia came again. We took refuge in flight. After several temporary residences we located in Nieder-Sedlitz. Again I was asked to instruct the officials in the city hall in the Russian language. Soon I was also recognized as official translator. In reality I was now serving two masters. Anxiety for the future occupied us at all times. At different occasions Marie was asked to report to the Russian authorities. We felt very clearly that our safety depended upon our further change of residence to a more secure area. Our daughter Martha, from whom we had been separated for over a year, invited us to come to the British zone. After being notified by the chief of police to appear before the Russian authorities, we felt the time for action had come. We decided to prepare the necessary papers and leave. The mayor and his force were reluctant to see us depart since we were their chief liaison agents with the Russian authorities. Finally, however, we received our dismissal and Mother packed our things for another flight. As darkness fell on the night of June 7, 1946, I again retired to my usual place of security in the garden. The new day dawned and I awoke Mother and Marie. We took our farewell and went to the depot. Boarding the train we left the Russian zone where we had lived fourteen months in anxious insecurity. We arrived at the zonal boundary on Pentecost. The various inspections consumed several days. We found several thousand refugees from the Russian zone. On the evening of June 12 we were met by our children Martha and Peter. It was a joyful reunion. We were in safety at last but many thousands had been "repatriated" by the Russians to be sent to the slave labor camps in Siberia. [Mennonite Life, January 1951,
pages 6-7] Reprinted with permission from Gathering at the Hearth: Stories Mennonites Tell edited by John E. Sharp, Herald Press, Copyright 2001. The book is sponsored by the Historical Committee of the Mennonite Church. |
Escape
from Communism