ER From Kharkov to Moscow

My Diary

Kharkov, December 14, 1922

Long before starting our trip to America, I had decided to keep a travel diary in order to retain some of the impressions, incidents and data for future years. When the time of departure finally arrived, the opportunity and desire for writing was missing. Therefore, only today, the eighth day of our journey, marks the beginning of my diary. Now I will try to catch up and show more perseverance in the future.

Actually, it might be worthwhile to tell you about the preparations for this trip. But, if one were to include the many hopes and disappointments connected with getting the necessary papers and visas, it would make a long chapter by itself. Therefore, I will keep this a travel diary in the true sense of the word.

For about two months we were, as the saying goes, “on the jump”. The furniture had been sold, the trunks and suitcases were packed and we waited impatiently for the necessary papers. Finally, we received from Uncle Neufeld, temporarily staying in Halbstadt, a telegram, “Are expecting you.” That was in the forenoon of December 5th, 1922. It did not take us long to get ready. I spent the afternoon calling some friends and saying goodbye, realizing fully that very likely we would never see each other again.  In the evening, relatives and neighbors met to wish us farewell and to entrust us to our Heavenly Father’s care.

The next morning, we started early, probably three hours or so before sunrise. It had been snowing, the moon showed itself through picturesque clouds and we saw our beloved Gnadenfeld for the last time flooded in beautiful light. We rode on sleighs, the whole group, together with their belongings, was stowed on three of them that were pulled by skinny small horses. To reach Halbstadt, we had to travel about 35 miles. The weather was pleasant and mild, but this caused trouble. The snow began to thaw and the road became slushy.

At noon, we had covered about half of the way and stopped at a farm to feed the horses and rest. It was a small dwelling with a thatched roof and earth floor, but clean and warm. In the adjoining room, we noticed a group of little girls, in age ranging from one to six years maybe, who peeped through the door and with bright eyes and happy faces stared at the “strangers”.

After two hours, we continued our travel, but by now the snow had thawed so much that our drivers decided to change from sleighs to wagons. In the next village, we stopped again and were fortunate to get a wagon at the farm of an acquaintance. Now the people and load from two sleighs were transferred to the wagon and both teams joined forces to go on.

During this delay, my younger sister Greta, who was going along with us as far as Halbstadt, and I went inside the farm house and here we met an interesting jolly man, who seemed to be everyone’s friend and had lived three years in America. When we heard that I was on my way to America and had had a few lessons in English, he started to converse with me in this new language. I could understand him and also answered a few questions, realizing, though, that conversing with “real” Americans would be much harder. Traveling by wagon, we made better progress and arrived at our destination, Halbstadt, about dusk.

Here our patience was put to a severe test. Our plan was to travel as far as Moscow by train, using a rented boxcar about ten feet by twenty-two feet. This car was ready on the tracks, but we had to wait for a train to which it could be joined. Since there was no regular schedule and departure of trains seemed to depend on all unlikely circumstances like snow, darkness, etc., we just had to wait. This car had a large sliding door on either side, but no regular windows. We made the best of it and had glass panes fitted into the vents high up in the walls. A small wood stove spread pleasant warmth and a table and few chairs made the room quite inviting.

Friday, 8th of December, our train was supposed to arrive and our whole party drove to the station. Sister Greta came along (she wished to see our traveling home) and after a tearful goodbye, returned to Gnadenfeld. But the train did not come that day and we returned to the home of relatives.

December 10th, we again had word that the train would come and all of us drove to the station. This time, we were told “tomorrow”. We decided to stay in the boxcar. The next day, about 11 am, we finally started rolling. It was an odd sensation to feel the rattling and shaking of the train and to be aware of the fact that this was the beginning of a long trip which, Lord willing, would not end before we reached Reedley, California. 

After several hours, we arrived at the station Feodorovka, where our boxcar was uncoupled and we were left on the side tracks again waiting for a train. At 9 o’clock in the evening it came and we were coupled to it. After many jolts and knocks, we were on our way.

At this station we bought boards that were used to make the accommodations of the car more complete. They were built into a wide bunk, half way up and across one end of the car, which provided sleeping space for four members of our group. We have our own blankets and pillows and sleep on hay.

This temporary home is of course quite crowded, as there were fourteen people in our group, but one can get used to it. These are our dear Uncle Will and Aunt Gretchen (Neufeld) who have come from America and are now on their way home. Taking my brothers and me along to California where we expect to find a new home. The younger brothers, Arthur and Frank, will very likely not have any difficulty leaving Russia, but the older ones, Herman and Dietrich, have not been able to get their passports yet. They are coming with us as far as Moscow and then we will see what can be done. Another member of our group is Uncle Aron Rempel, our Father’s oldest brother, who is also leaving Russia. He, as well as Uncle Will N., are our guardians and have taken over the financial responsibilities and worries of our party. There is Mrs. K.K with her four-year old daughter, Friedel, a very precocious happy child. They are planning to join their husband and father who preceded them to America. In Halbstadt, four more people joined us. Mrs. S. with her children, 16 year old Hans and 9 year old Irmgard and her sister-in-law Margaret S.

Margaret is only a few years older than I, she has a happy nature and we already have become good friends. The two of us sleep together, do our chores together, and in our free time stand at the small high windows, enjoying the passing scenery. The train is moving at a good speed and we are well pleased with our journey.

At about 9 am, we arrived in Kharkov. As we are traveling by freight train, our car has been left on tracks far away from the main depot and there is not much to see. Most of our “Family” are outside. Margaret and I are using this quietness to write in our diaries. Uncle Will and Aunt Gretchen took a walk into town. They plan to join us later when the train will stop at the main station.

Ovel, December 16-22

I was not able to write anymore yesterday, though there was plenty to write about. We left Kharkov on Dec. 14 at about 7 pm. We had been told that the train would stop at the main station but we were traveling faster and faster, we soon realized with fear and anxiety that there would be no stop and that our Uncle and Aunt were left behind. We decided to send them a telegram at one of the next stations, but this proved impossible as the train either did not stop or stopped for short times only and the night was dark and the stations poorly lit.

The next day, we arrived in Kursk. We regretted that rain and haze did not give us a chance to see the view. The town of the same name is far away from the station. Brother Herman walked to the station, where a passenger train from Kharkov to Moscow was waiting. We were so disappointed that he did not find the Neufelds on that train.

During the night, we left Kursk. Yesterday, we were not able to see much as fog and rain cut out the view. Today, we have more luck. All day long, we had sunshine and a blue sky and beautiful scenery was our reward. Everything is covered with freshly fallen snow. Often, we see groups of trees that are planted to keep snow drifts off the tracks. All along at certain intervals are the homes of the signalmen who meet the train, waving the green flag. These houses are built of wood, painted, surrounded by pretty gardens and look very attractive, though they are almost playhouse size. Not so the huts in the villages, which appear very poor. Not much bigger than a dog kennel, with only one tiny window, built of adobe with a heavy thatched roof, they seem unworthy of human habitation. Not a tree, shrub or fence beautifies these homes. The huts are scattered without a plan and one can barely recognize the streets.

Especially popular is the place near the small windows of our car, when the train races by a birch grove, a canyon or a river. We see many typically Russian wide, low sleighs pulled by well-fed horses. Arthur and the two small girls are almost constantly at the windows, but we older ones don’t always have time for this treat.

I will try to describe a routine day. Margaret and I sleep in the so-called den, the dark space under the wide bunk. Above us sleep Mrs. S. and Mrs. K. with their young daughters. There is little light in our corner, but we sleep quite comfortably on the bed of hay. When we wake in the morning, we have to dress and wash ourselves, kneeling or sitting, if we don’t want to bump our heads. At the other end of the car sleeps the men and the middle section is crowded with trunks, suitcases and boxes.

It is quite a job to “make the beds” and arrange the room for day living. First we find a temporary place for blankets and pillows. Then we push the hay against the end wall. This is a rather dusty procedure as the hay is very dry However, covered with blankets and pillows, it serves as a good sofa during the day and we gain more space. Next we make the “beds” in the men’s quarters. Here it is easier, since the hay, blankets and pillows remain on the boards, which are placed on trunks and boxes. Other smaller luggage is placed on a sturdy high shelf.

This way we clear the center space and use it as a kitchen and dining room. There are a number of small tables, three chairs and a few trunks and boxes. The coats are hanging against the wall and near the small stove is a supply of wood. This stove is serving us very well and we would not want to be without it. When everyone is dressed and washed, we remove the blanket that separates the two halves of the car and sweep and straighten out the car as best as possible.

By now the water for homemade Postum has come to a boil. We always regret that it is nearly impossible to make a hot drink for all the members of the large group at the same time. After the tables are set, we sing a song of praise. It’s good, if each finds a fairly comfortable place to sit.

After a simple breakfast of bread and a hot drink, Margaret and I wash the dishes and soon it’s time to put the dinner on the fire. Thanks to the supplies that Aunt Gretchen had provided, the food was really better than we had been eating at home. We have potatoes with sausage or rice with roast or very good soup made with dried fruit. After dinner follows the same routine: wash dishes, sweep the floor and brew a cup of coffee for Uncle Aron. Then we put the tea kettle on. We keep the fire going constantly and therefore do not mind the severe cold of the North.

At dusk, we light a bright kerosene lamp and have tea. The light is on all night and one of two people stay up to keep the fire in the stove going. Besides, there is not enough room for all to bed down at the same time. At the present, Margaret and I are on guard and are sitting at the table while the others are sleeping.

During our “leisure hours”, we do quite a bit of singing. Little Friedel provides happy entertainment with her precocious talk and many laughs. It’s been a long time since I laughed as much as on this trip. If we did not have to worry over our uncle and aunt’s whereabouts, we would be very pleased with our trip. They were without the luggage, handbag, pillows and blankets, but we trust that they will travel by passenger train and likely arrive in Moscow before we will. 

Tonight, a passenger train is going through. We gave the porter a written message. He will page the train and if the Neufelds are on it give them the note. At least they would know of our well being.

It is almost 1 am. Very likely, we will start moving soon and are rather dreading it. Since our car is part of a freight train, the presence of human beings and the sudden jolts and shocks make it hard to keep one's balance. Everything that is not secured falls or slides and the water in the kettle splashes over. At daytime, this causes hilarious laughter but at night one fears concussions, etc.

Tula, December 17, 1922

A stunning shock marked the end of my writing. We had been reading and catching up on our diaries. A cup of tea at midnight added to our comfort and well being. Suddenly, our car was hit hard by the next one, causing a terrific rattle and banging. This was followed by several more shocks until the train started moving. That was the end of the cozy evening. For a little while we sat near the wood stove, warming our fingers, then we awakened my brother Hermann to relieve us and the rattle and swaying of the moving train finally put us to sleep.

Today is Sunday, but the Sunday mood has had difficulty asserting itself. Only now, in the late afternoon, is it quiet and peaceful. We arrived here at noon and are looking forward to arriving in Moscow tomorrow. We hope to be reunited with the Neufelds.

December 18, 1922

The train was stopped between Tula and Moscow and I want to take advantage of this opportunity of quietness and bring my diary up to date. In Tula, we were standing on the side tracks fully 24 hours, leaving about noon. We hope to arrive in Moscow sometime during the night. Sunday evening was happy and carefree. We younger ones gathered in the “den”, sang and played word games. There was much talk and laughter.

Awakening after a good night's sleep, we were surprised to find ourselves still in Tula. Margaret and I arose early and prepared breakfast. After the morning work was done, we decided to take a walk. First we walked to the main railway station and then followed a tree-lined avenue to the main part of the city. We walked quite far, enjoying the exercise and sights, but really were uneasy, knowing that “our” train  might depart at any time. At least we got a picture of the city. The houses were built of wood, often two-storied, painted different colors.  We saw a variety of sleighs, from small ones pulled by hand to large ones hitched to one or more big horses. Returning, we met Mrs. K. and little Friedel and, together, we took a look at the interior of the stately station building and bought stamps.

Margaret returned to our railroad car to get a letter for mailing, but returned out of breath with the word that our train would be on its way any minute. Fearing to be left behind, we ran as fast as we could and even crawled between the cars to save time. The older members of our group received us with well-deserved scolding. The boys were roaming around also and everybody was extremely excited and apprehensive, lest they would be left behind.

Well, all this excitement, hurry and fear proved unnecessary as the train stood as motionless as it had since the day before and gradually peace of mind returned to young and old. In the afternoon, Margaret and I strolled again, this time staying near the tracks. We saw that there was no locomotive in sight and since the brakeman could not tell us when the train would depart, we leisurely walked on and on. Returning, we saw and heard the locomotive, working up steam in front of our train and, fearing the worst, that is, being left behind, we ran as fast as our legs would carry us. It was a long train and our car was near the end. Stopping a few times to catch our breath, we arrived just a few minutes before the train started moving.  We certainly deserved another scolding for our carelessness, but all were thankful to be together and on our way. It wasn't a time for severe words.

Now the scenery was more diversified and the space near the small windows crowded to capacity. At times, the train traveled on high dams with deep canyons on either side. At other times we were hidden in deep ravines cut through the mountains. This might be a typical landscape: groves of trees, mostly spruces and birthed, against deep brilliant white snow, a blue sky forming the background. In the foreground, might be a cabin or a group of brick huts, their roofs covered with sparkling snow. We see many sleighs loaded with timber.

While standing at the windows, we did much singing, also, later after tea. Once, as the train stopped at a station, we opened the wide sliding door and joyously sang Christmas carols into the dark clear winter night. The stars were sparkling and lamps were lighting the windows of the small station. A lonely railroad employee, checking the tracks with his lantern, stopped and listened. One might wonder what his thoughts were as he heard the old time carols coming from a freight train.

Margaret and I are again on the first shift of keeping the fire in the wood stove going and Dietrich and Hans on the second. We hope to arrive in Moscow about midnight and, since the boys are very fond of cocoa, Margaret secretly prepared the delicious drink while the rest were asleep. We  planned to wake the boys about midnight and celebrate the arrival with a party. But we had not taken into consideration the capricious doings of our train. Just as the preparations were finished and Margaret had returned the pan with the cocoa to the stove, a terrific jolt rocked our car and, as could be expected, part of the drink spilled over. Everybody was awake now and grumbled, complaining about the unpleasant odor of burnt cocoa and cold draft since we had to open the big door to clear the air. Our secret had ceased to be a secret.

Dietrich rose to keep us company. We told him of our plans and after the others had quieted down and fallen asleep again, the three of us each had a cup of cocoa, even though we weren’t in Moscow yet.

Now my brother is sleeping again and all is quiet. Since the swaying of the train made writing impossible, Margaret and I exchanged experiences of our teenage years, as girls do, almost forgetting to tend to the stove. Now the fire is burning lustily and it is pleasantly warm. The train has been standing at this small station for some time. Very likely, we will be leaving soon. True, I must stop writing.