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

“I’LL BUY MYSELF A DRESS WITH A LITTLE BOW…”

Polia Pashkevich FOUR YEARS OLD. NOW A DRESSMAKER.

I was four years old…I never thought about war…

But this is how I pictured war: a big black forest, and there’s some sort of war in it. Something scary. Why in the forest? Because in fairy tales the most scary things happened in the forest.

More and more troops kept passing through our Belynichi, and I didn’t understand then that this was a retreat. We were being abandoned. I remember many military men in the house. They held me in their arms. Pitied me. Wanted to give me a treat, but didn’t have anything. In the morning, when they went away, there were many cartridges left on the windowsills and everywhere. And torn-off red badges. Decorations. I played with them…I didn’t understand what these toys were…

And here is something my aunt told me…When the Germans entered our town, they had a list of the Communists. My father was on it and the teacher who lived across the street from us. They had a son who was my friend, we called him Igrushka, “Toy.” His name was probably Igor, so I think now. Because I have the memory of this name or nickname, Igrushka. Our fathers were taken away together…

In front of my eyes…mama was shot down in the street. When she fell, her overcoat opened, it became red, and the snow around mama became red…

Then we were kept for a long time in some shed. It was very frightening, we wept, we shouted. I had a sister and a brother, two and a half, and one year old. I was four, I was the oldest. We were little, but we already knew that, when there was shelling, it wasn’t planes dropping bombs, but artillery. We could tell by the sound whether or not it was one of our planes coming, and whether the bomb would fall near us or far off. It was frightening, very frightening, but you covered your head, and then it wasn’t. The main thing was not to see anything.

Later we went somewhere on a sledge, all three of us, and in a village women took us to their cottages one by one. No one took my little brother for a long time, and he cried, “What about me?” My sister and I were afraid they would separate us and we’d no longer be together. We had always lived together.

Once I was almost eaten by a German shepherd. I was sitting by the window. The Germans came down the street with two big German shepherds. One of them dashed at my window and broke the glass. Someone snatched me from the windowsill, but I was so frightened that from that day on I began to stutter. Even now I’m afraid of big dogs.

…After the war we were sent to an orphanage that stood near the road. There were many German prisoners. They walked down the road for days. We threw dirt and stones at them. The convoy soldiers chased us away and scolded us.

In the orphanage all the children waited for their parents to come and take them home. An unknown man or woman would appear; we’d all run to them and shout, “My papa…My mama…”

“No, it’s my papa!”

“They came to take me!”

“No, it’s me they’ll take!”

We envied very much those who were found by their parents. They wouldn’t let us come near their mamas and papas: “Don’t touch her, she’s my mama” or “Don’t touch him, he’s my papa.” They wouldn’t let go of them for a moment, afraid someone would take them away. Or for fear they would suddenly go off somewhere again.

Children from the orphanage and ordinary children went to school together. At that time everybody lived poorly, but a child would come from home and have a slice of bread in his bag or a potato, while we had nothing. We were all dressed the same way when we were little, but once we grew up, we would get upset. When you’re twelve or thirteen, you want a pretty dress, pretty shoes, but we all wore ankle-high laced shoes. Both boys and girls. A girl wanted a bright ribbon in her braids, colored pencils. A book bag. We wanted candy, but we had it only for the New Year—fruit drops. Whenever we had a lot of black bread, we sucked it like candy—we thought it was very tasty.

We had one young teacher, the rest were elderly women, so we all loved her very much. We adored her. Lessons wouldn’t begin until she came to school. We sat by the window and waited: “She’s co-o-oming! She’s co-o-oming…” She came into the classroom, and each one of us wanted to touch her, each of us thought, “My mama is like that…”

My dream: I’ll grow up, start working, and buy myself many dresses—a red one, a green one, a polka-dot one, with a little bow. The little bow was a must! In the seventh grade they asked me what I wanted to study, and I had long since decided: dress-making.

I sew dresses.