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

“YOU’LL BE MY CHILDREN NOW…”

Nina Shunto SIX YEARS OLD. NOW A COOK.

Aie-aie-aie! My heart begins to ache at once…

Before the war we lived only with papa…Mama was dead. When papa went to the front, we were left with our aunt. Our aunt lived in the village of Zadory, in the Lepiel district. Soon after papa brought us to her, she ran into a branch with her eye and lost the eye. An infection set in and she died. Our only aunt. I was left alone with my brother, who was little. He and I went to look for the partisans, because for some reason we decided that our papa was there. We spent nights wherever we happened to be. I remember hiding in a haystack during a thunderstorm. We pulled some hay away, made a hole and hid in it. There were many children like us. They all looked for their parents. Even if they knew their parents were dead, they still told us that they were also looking for papa and mama. Or some other relations.

We walked…walked…In some village…a window was open. Probably potato pies had been baked there a little earlier. When we came closer, my brother smelled these pies and fainted. I went into the cottage, I wanted to ask for a piece for my brother, because otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten up. And I couldn’t carry him, I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t find anyone in the cottage, but I couldn’t help myself and broke off a piece of the pie. We sat and waited for the owners, so that they wouldn’t think we were thieves. The owner came, she lived alone. She didn’t let us go, she said: “You’ll be my children now…” As soon as she said it, my brother and I fell asleep right there at the table. We felt so good. We had a home now.

Soon this village was burned down. All the people in it, too. And our new auntie. We stayed alive because early in the morning we went to pick berries…We sat on a hillock and looked at the fire…We already understood…We didn’t know where to go. How would we find another auntie? We had just come to love this one. We even said to each other that we would call our new auntie “mama.” She was so nice, she always kissed us before we went to sleep.

We were picked up by the partisans. From the partisan unit we were sent away from the front on a plane…

What do I have left from the war? I don’t understand what strangers are, because my brother and I grew up among strangers. Strangers saved us. But what kind of strangers are they? All people are one’s own. I live with that feeling, though I’m often disappointed. Peacetime life is different…