EDR and WW2

World War II Reaches the Molotschna Colony

Germany attacked the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941. In September all the men between the ages of 16 and 60 were gathered and forced to go east to Siberia or Kazakhstan. Most of these never saw their families again.

On October 2, 1941, all the remaining inhabitants, mostly women and children, were suddenly ordered to leave within two hours, which stretched into 24 hours, and gather at the train station Stunevo, about 15 km from Paulsheim.

Grandma writes:

In the year 1941, when the German army was advancing, our village was also supposed to move to Kazakhstan.

The night before we were to leave, the Russian soldiers had come to take away my beautiful dishes, the fine blue cups with a gold border and the deep plates, to use at their camp feast. They had also butchered a pig and were drinking.

As I went to get yeast from a neighbor, someone called out in Russian, “Stop!” Two armed men came and searched me for guns. Two guns were being pointed at me and I went back obediently to our house. It was an odd feeling. I had not been aware that we were being watched.

It was already late. I did not have much time to reflect. I had only one basketful of straw and this was not enough to heat up the stove. So I fetched books from the attic, tore them up, and used them as fuel to bake a large sheet full of bread for our journey. It was quite tasty because I used up all the milk in the cellar, also lots of cream and, instead of yeast, I used baking soda. I continued packing the whole night. At last everything was ready, and it was none too soon, for it was daybreak and we were to be taken away. I started singing the hymn, “Jesus, still lead o” to wake up Nina (Valentine’s mother) and little Val and my husband Gustav, but really more to strengthen myself. We wanted to eat breakfast in our home once more, but this was not possible, because as soon as my song ended, two soldiers were at the door and I had to open it. A Russian with a wagon was already standing there. Amidst yelling and prodding on the part of the two soldiers, we loaded up the food and some bedding. Then one of them, called Gule, quickly hung a lock on the front door.

My husband was pushed along so forcefully, accompanied by loud coarse exclamations, that he almost fell. I said that they should not do that since he was old. Gule responded in Russian, “Shut up and get moving!: I replied that he, too, would one day be old and would experience what it was like. Then he gave me an odd look and laughed, “We are supposed to treat you like this,” He could speak low German well since he was the son of a former shepherd in our village.

But how would we get our Sunday clothes, which had been packed in a box. I started to plead, but was told right away to be quiet or they would put me in jail. At that time, Nina still stuck loyally to us and as a result she was scorned by them. She spoke up and promised them some liquor, of which Gustav still had a little. It had been put in one of three sacks. As they busied themselves opening the sacks, we had just enough time to take our clothes out of the box. That was all we could take. They would not allow us to take more. So I, too, climbed up on the wagon and Nina handed little Val up to me. Nina was determined to accompany us to Kazakhstan. Wearing our son Gustav’s boots and overcoat, she walked beside our wagon. Thus, off we went to the train station Stulnevo, where we were supposed to be put on the train.

We grandparents, together with two-year-old Val, and a few possessions piled on the wagon, were driven by Russian men to Stulnevo. Nina walked alongside. We were part of a long queue of others from Paulsheim.

 The people from the village of Mariawohl had already arrived. Thus someone was standing there waiting for us. It was Frieda, who met us and took us into her group of (Regehr) relatives. Her husband, Heinrich, had already been sent off with the other men. O Frieda, dear brave daughter, you were a great comfort to us old parents at that time and in the Great Trek of 1943! When I saw our old sick neighbor, Mrs. Voth, lying in the next wagon, I realized more painfully than ever that we had been forced into very difficult circumstances and my eyes filled with tears. With his weak legs, Gustav was also having a hard time. But then two warm little arms clasped my neck and a child’s voice consoled me, ‘Don’t cry, Grandma!” After all the sun was still shining and a Father in Heaven knew all about our troubles, that were so great at the time. Now as I look back ten years later, I can see quite clearly that, ‘Whoever trusts in almighty God (and we all did), has not built on sand.”

We waited on the grass near the station. From our village there were three old men: my husband, Mr. Sudermann and Mr. Boese. There were no young men. There were only mothers with their younger children. All the 16-year-old boys had been taken away.

Freight trains with empty cars arrived, but the communist officials with their domestic animals climbed into them. We had an idea about what was happening, since the Germans were near and the roar of artillery was loud. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. Surrounded by our bags, my six-year-old grandson Walter (Regehr) and I were sitting on the grass. “Look what they are doing over there! They are setting fire to the houses!” he cried. And it was so. “Minds as dark as the earth,” remarked the boy, just like a grown-up.  It was a spectacular sight. Then six tall fuel storage tanks exploded before our eyes. What was still ahead for us?

A Russian fighter plane flew over our camp wanting to harm us. But it did not succeed, because like an eagle a German plane came close, opened fire and vanished again. The Russian plane burst into flames, wobbled and fell.

In the evening, we all lay behind our piled-up bags, as pieces of railway track were hurled up into the sky. The tracks were being blown up. Then I heard Frieda’s warning to the children not to raise their heads, because bullets were flying overhead. The Russian soldiers were supposed to shoot at us, but because some of them had worked on our collective farms before being drafted, they did not want to kill us. So they shot over our heads. I heard about this when, soon afterwards, we returned to our village, which was not occupied by the German army.

Horses had been fed in our little house and all the hay was gone. Also all our things and our good cow and our fattened pig were gone. I had packed our household effects in boxes and baskets because, when we were packing, someone had gone around telling us that we were allowed to take everything along as emigrants to Kazakhstan. But when we were loading up and there were only a few thighs on the wagon, Gule had hung a lock on our door. When we came back, everything was gone. I discovered that a Russian woman had our little blue wagon, and she gave it back to me. Now I could use it again in the garden and I did not have to carry everything. Later, Nina used the wagon to transport the wheat that she got from her uncle in Kakhovka on the Dnieper River.

Nina lived with us for a while and helped us a lot. We spun and knitted. I knitted her a pair of gloves and a warm shawl of fine white wool, because she cared for our horse, which the German soldiers had given us. We were also given a cow to replace the one we had lost, but it was not half as good. We retrieved pails, plates and cups that had been discarded and put in the attic, and Gustaav soldered them. Thus we managed.