Childhood in Chortkiv during the Second World War.

An Interview with my Mom

My mother Teresa, was born on 18 th of December, 1938, in Chortkiv near Lviv. Her childhood took place during the World War II. The town was annexed to the Soviet Union from September 17, 1939 until June 1941. From 1941–1944 it was annexed to Nazi Germany. After the defeat of the Nazis by the Red Army in 1944, the town returned to Soviet control. Polish residents of the town were transferred to the Polish Recovered Territories. The greatest war tragedies involving the death of relatives fortunately missed my mother’s family. However, life during the war can never even be considered normal.

Me: Your earliest childhood memories?

Mom: I was two years old. The Second World War lasted. The Ukrainians searched the houses at nights to take Poles to Siberia. My grandmother was a very respected person among Ukrainian neighbor, so they always let her know when she shouldn’t stay at home. Then we went to sleep in the garden or neighbor’s shed. We had an agreed sign if they came to this shed. I remember those nights. I remember that I never cried. Even when my mother suddenly had to wake me up to get out of the shed quickly through the second door.These are my first childhood memories.

Me: Did you realize the threat of war?

Mom: Nevertheless, I didn’t feel a threat. I didn’t go out to town. We lived off the beaten track. I felt safe. Maybe that’s why I didn’t cry. I had grandma and mom. I didn’t remember my father, so I didn’t miss him.

Me: What did you feel when Basia ( Barbara) appeared at home. Do you remember the first day with her?

Mom: I don’t remember exactly the first day when Basia appeared in our house. I remember how we played together. We never argued. We were treated like sisters. And that was our relationship. We were really little children, anyway. I was three and Basia four years old.

Basia was hidden at our house behind a huge commode. She was a Jew, so the risk of saving her was enormous. It could cost the lives of all household members. We played together at the backyard only at night. There were Germans in the town but our house was located off the beaten track. The neighbors were mainly Ukrainians.

One day, son of neighbor saw Basia as she looked from the commode before hearing the door slam. After the war, we learned that he came to the house and said that there is a Jewish child in house of neighbor. As his father heard it, he called the whole family and announced that everyone would immediately forget about it and they must never tell anyone. Never. Thanks to this, we survived the war.

Me: How did you remember your garden in Chortkiv?

Mom: I remember how beautiful it was. I remember where the fruit trees grew, where the nuts grew, where black and red currants grew. I remember the smell of these fruits. And I remember the day when we had to leave this house and garden forever and my mother was crying so much. She cried so much and I didn’t know why. I didn’t miss, because I didn’t understand that we were leaving this place forever, but also the most important for me was whether my grandmother and my mother were with me. They were, so I felt calm.

Me: Do you remember the day when Basia had to leave? What did you feel?

Mom: Basia was already with us on the repatriation list. She was to go to Poland with us. However, several weeks before our leaving, her aunt came for her. The same one who brought her to us. The conversation was short. She took Basia and left. Everyone was crying, except of aunt. I remember them walking along the fence and disappearing around the corner. I never saw Basia again and we didn’t receive any news from her. We tried to find her after many years, but it failed.

Me: Did you have any toys ?

Mom: I really wanted to have a doll and a teddy bear. I did not have a teddy bear. At the end of the war, I got a doll. The doll was beautiful. She had hair and closed her eyes. But some girl destroyed her. And she did not close her eyes anymore. And then my mother gave her to another girl. Apparently poorer than me.

And then we spent a month in a cattle wagon. We were traveling to Poland (Recovered Territories). But it was not coming back to homeland. For me, Poland and my home were in Chortkiv.

When getting into the cattle wagon, packing previously a Singer sewing machine, one large trunk, a few suitcases and … a nanny-goat named Basia, we did not know what our destination station will be. It turned out later.

We still knew nothing about father’s fate. We haven’t heard from him since the beginning of the war. But we believed that he survived and we would find each other.

And fortunately it happened.