Last Witnesses : An Oral History of the Children of World War II

“MY LITTLE BROTHER CRIES, BECAUSE HE WASN’T THERE WHEN PAPA WAS THERE…”

Larissa Lisovskaya SIX YEARS OLD. NOW A LIBRARIAN.

I remember my papa…And my little brother…

Papa was with the partisans. The fascists captured him and shot him. Some women told mama where they had been executed—papa and several other people. She ran to where they lay…All her life she remembered that it was cold, the puddles were glazed with ice. They lay in their stocking feet…

Mama was pregnant. She was expecting our little brother.

We had to hide. The families of the partisans were arrested. They seized them with the children. Took them away in canvas-covered trucks…

We stayed for a long time in our neighbors’ cellar. Spring was already beginning…We lay on potatoes, and the potatoes sprouted…You fall asleep and during the night a sprout pops up and tickles you near the nose. Like a little bug. I had bugs living in my pockets. In my socks. I wasn’t afraid of them—either by day or by night.

We got out of the cellar and mama gave birth to our little brother. He grew, began to speak, and we used to remember papa:

“Papa was tall…”

“Strong…How he used to toss me in his arms!”

That was me and my sister talking, and our little brother would ask, “And where was I?”

“You weren’t there yet…”

He begins to cry, because he wasn’t there when papa was there…