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

“…NEITHER SUITORS NOR SOLDIERS…”

Vera Novikova THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. NOW A TRAMWAY DISPATCHER.

It was so long ago…But it’s still frightening…

I remember such a sunny day, the wind ruffles the spiderwebs. Our village is burning, our house is burning. We come out of the forest. The little children cry, “A bonfire! A bonfire! Beautiful!” And all the others weep. Mama weeps and crosses herself.

The house burned down…We rummaged in the ashes, but didn’t find anything. Only charred forks. The stove stayed as it had stood. There was food in it—potato pancakes. Mama took the frying pan out with her hands: “Eat, children.” It was impossible to eat those pancakes, they smelled so much of smoke, but we ate them, because we had nothing else but grass. All we had left was the grass and the ground.

It was so long ago…But it’s still frightening…

My cousin was hanged…Her husband was the commander of a partisan unit, and she was pregnant. Someone denounced her to the Germans, and they came. They chased everybody out to the square. Ordered that no one should cry. Next to the village council grew a tall tree. They drove the horse up to it. My cousin stood on the sledge…She had a long braid…They put the noose around her neck, she took the braid out of it. The horse pulled the sledge away, and she hung there spinning…The women shouted…They shouted without tears, just with voices. We weren’t allowed to cry. We could shout, but not cry—not be sorry. They came up and killed those who cried. There were adolescent boys, sixteen or seventeen years old. They were shot. They had cried.

So young…As yet neither suitors nor soldiers…

Why have I told you this? It’s more frightening for me now than then. That’s why I don’t recall it…