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

“THEY BROUGHT LONG, THIN CANDY…IT LOOKED LIKE PENCILS…”

Leonida Belaya THREE YEARS OLD. NOW A CLOTHES PRESSER.

Does a three-year-old child remember anything? I’ll tell you…

I remember three or four images very clearly.

…Behind the house, by the meadow, some men were doing exercises, swimming in the river. Splashing, shouting, laughing, chasing each other, like our village boys. Only mama allowed me to play with the boys, but here she was scared and shouted that I mustn’t leave the cottage. When I asked, “Who are those men?” she answered in a frightened voice, “Germans.” Other kids ran to the river and brought back long, thin candy…They offered me some…

During the day, those same men marched along our streets. They shot all the dogs that barked at them.

After that, my mother forbade me to show myself outside during the day. I sat at home all day with my cat.

…We’re running somewhere…The dew is cold. My grandmother’s skirt is wet up to the waist, and my whole dress is wet, and so is my head. We hide in the forest. I dry off in my grandmother’s jacket, while my dress is drying. One of our neighbors climbs a tree. I hear: “Burning…burning…burning…” Just that one word…

…We return to the village. In place of our cottages—black cinders. Where our neighbors lived, we find a comb. I recognize that comb. The neighbors’ daughter—her name was Anyuta—used to comb my hair with it. My mama can’t answer me when I ask where she and her mama are and why they don’t come back. My mama clutches her heart. And I remember how Anyuta used to bring long, thin candy from those men who were merrily bathing in the river. Long as pencils…Very tasty. We didn’t have candy like that…She was pretty, she always got a lot of candy. More than anyone. At night we would put our feet in the ashes to get warm and fall asleep. Warm, soft ashes…