EDR as a widow

Widow

I often think of him with whom I walked side-by-side for 45 years, through joy and sorrow, good times and hard times, the minister and teacher Gustav Rempel, the father of our eight beloved children, six daughters and two sons. For 18 years before the Russian revolution, he faithfully preached the Word of God as a Mennonite preacher. Because of this, he was put on the communists’ black list. Our marriage, that is, our life together, though happy, was not exactly harmonious because our dispositions were very different. But God gave grace so that I could maintain peace in our home.

After the funeral on June 18, 1945, we did not stay long in our forsaken little house. People needed a good spinner for their wool and an old man came to fetch me and Val. So for one month I spun wool at Shilishewskis, the second month at their married children’s home, then at Gorochowskis.

Val had to watch the cows as they grazed. On Sunday, I would go with my mending and keep her company. At six years of age she was an obedient cheerful girl and was often asked by Polish people if she did not want to stay with them and get a doll and dresses and a coat. She told them that she would stay with her grandma, who often lost her way, and that she would always stay with her.

We slept on blankets beside a pile of wheat on the floor of a little attic room, our few possessions in a corner. We received generous amounts of good food. Also the people did not treat us harshly. The Polish authorities had ordered their people to treat the Germans “with strictness and justice,” as they called it. But the situation for all the Germans was a very sad one because they were hated so much. I was all alone with Val in a foreign land and I did not know what had become of the rest of my family.

A Polish woman called me on the street one day and asked me to visit her daughter who was expecting a child. She, the mother, was concerned about whether the baby’s position was right. When I went to their house the next day and saw only the mother, I learned that the daughter did not trust me because I was a German. I said, “I did not receive my training as a midwife in order to harm anyone, but to help.” A good friend of the mother joined us. She went in to talk to the daughter once more. Then I was permitted to come in. I could tell her that the position was normal and gave her good advice. Then I left. A month later when the apples were ripe, I went for Val’s sake to a large farm with an apple orchard. A grandmother of the family refused to sell me any. The grown-up son must have heard her and he took me to the orchard to gather as many apples as I wanted. When my bag was half-full, I stopped politely, but then he filled it up. “Thank you very much! You are kind to me,” I said. “You also are very kind,” said the young Polish man, who was a complete stranger to me. Then I realized that he knew of my visit to the young woman.

Refugee transport to Germany

I responded to the call to leave for Germany. My kind landlord, Alexander Gorochowski, helped me and took us to the police station where we had to report. There, our possessions were inspected and a lot of things were confiscated. A person was permitted to take only 50 sloti with him. I had earned 400 sloti with spinning and had sold the sheep-skins for a good price. We left on November 8, 1945.

We traveled in an open freight car and sat on our little sack, which had become very thin. However, we were given rations of bread, a little butter and sugar, and a thin soup. Grandmothers with children and mothers with small children were allowed to leave first. The others were still needed to harvest beets.

In Dietfurt, our first stop, we spent the night in a school and lay on tables and benches. Right next to me was a Mrs. Meier, formerly an estate owner from Vogelitz, with her three children. Because they had had especially good-quality pillows and blankets in large sacks, they lost everything. Everything had been taken away. Now they were cold and they were glad to take our two gray military blankets, which probably had not been good enough to be taken from us. Thus I was able to help them out. I still had my quilted coat for myself.

We had to spend the night at the train station in Kreutz. We found the waiting room full of people. Some even had to stay outside during the night and many of them again lost their possessions. Val and I found a spot for the long night along the wall by the door.

In the morning we had to board a long train. With our backpack and lunch bag, we ran along the length of the train. Every car was full and the doors were shut. This was also the case with the last car. A railway official came towards us. “O sir, please help us, please!” Val started to cry. He took hold of the door handle and ordered the people to open. “It’s full!” was the answer. Again he commanded them to open, and not only we, but the whole Meier family got in as well. I had to stand by an open window without panes and the strong wind blew against my back for hours until we reached Kuestrin. It is still a mystery to me that I was able to withstand the rigors of the journey and did not even get a cold. I was traveling under the protection of Almighty God!

Life in a refugee camp in Germany

Thus we and the Meier family stayed together on our journey to Camp Damshoehe in Mecklenburg in the Russian Zone. As we traveled we saw burnt and destroyed villages and towns. We had many stops in transit camps, first in Kuestrin, then New Strelitz. We finally reached Damshoehe at the end of November, 1945. There in the huge spruce and pine forest stood the large barracks full of refugees from East Prussia.

We stayed together until March 1946, when the large refugee camp at Damshoehe was dissolved. Since Mrs. Meier got typhoid and had to go to the hospital, her three children and Val were in my care.

The scenery was very beautiful there but food was scarce. We received only small portions of very good soup, but not enough to satisfy, also 300 g of bread per day, salt, and two spoonfuls of sugar and a small slice of butter twice a week. The time when the people of each barrack were to appear to receive their rations was announced on the loudspeaker. It took almost the whole day, and out of fairness the sequence was changed regularly. A meal cost 20 cents. We did not have to work and could rest and dream and talk of food. Occasionally there was a special distribution of milk and candy for the many children. The Russian commander, who liked children, was responsible for this. Many of the old people became sick with dysentery and died. 

My time in the camp until March 1, 1946 was not boring. However, I got no response to my letters to Lina in Goettingen. I had heard that Goettingen, too, had been bombed. At the beginning of March the camp was to be dissolved. Anton Zemiak, a farmer from Silesia, whose shirts I had mended, wanted to take us with him to a small farm, which he was to take over until he found his family. That was not a cheerful prospect.

News from Lina and Frieda

All of a sudden I received a bundle of mail that had piled up. The postmaster had not been able to find my name on the camp list. Now I knew where Lina and Frieda were. They were both alive! I was deliriously happy. Lina and Irene were in the basement bomb shelter of a house that was badly damaged during an air raid. Even part of the basement wall caved in.

Through Lina’s letter, I learned that Frieda had waited with others at the train station in Rauschenfels full of fear because of the advancing Russian army. However, at night a train did come and a conductor opened the door to ask if there were any refugees left. The train drove without hindrance as far as Berlin-Potsdam. She and Walter and Lily came to the village of Gruenefeld in the Russian Zone. There she got work as a teacher of Russian and as an interpreter for the mayor when he needed one. I have very brave, clever children and to this day I commend them daily to God’s care.

Frieda came twice to the camp to fetch us, but could not do so because of the typhoid quarantine. The third time she came, she found the camp had been closed and she had to follow us to Stargard. There she found us on a big estate called Rosenhagen and we were able to drive off happily to Gruenefeld in Osthaveland near Berlin.

Gruenefeld was situated quite a distance from the train station. As we were walking through a village, I found I was too weak to walk any further and had to stop at the inn and wait until Walter came to pick me up with a wagon.

When we got home I had a bath and went straight to bed. I was so very happy and thankful. I slowly recovered in the three months I was with Frieda. The medicine and lard sent by Lina and the medicine from the doctor helped me a lot