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

“AND I FIRED INTO THE AIR…”

Anya Pavlova NINE YEARS OLD. NOW A COOK.

Oh, my soul is going to ache…To ache again…

The Germans dragged me into the barn…Mama ran after me, tearing her hair. She screamed, “Do whatever you want with me, just don’t touch my child.” I had two younger brothers. They shouted, too…

We were from the village of Mekhovaya, in the Orel region. From there we were driven on foot to Belarus. From one concentration camp to another…When they wanted to take me away to Germany, mama padded her belly and put my little brother in my arms. That’s how I survived. I was removed from the list.

Oh! Today my soul won’t be still all day and all night. I’m moved, stirred…

Dogs tore children apart…We sat over a torn-up child waiting for his heart to stop. Then we covered him with snow…That would be his grave till spring…

In 1945…after the Victory…mama was sent to build a health center here in Zhdanovichi. I went with her. And so I stayed here. I’ve been working in the health center for forty years…Since the first stone I’ve been here; it all rose up before my eyes. They gave me a rifle, ten German prisoners, and I led them to work. The first time I brought them, women surrounded us: one with a stone, another with a shovel, yet another with a stick. And I ran around the prisoners with my rifle and shouted, “Good women! Don’t touch them…Good women, I signed papers for them. I’ll shoot!” And I fired into the air.

The women cried, and I cried. And the Germans stood there. Never raised their eyes.

Mama never once took me to the military museum. One time she saw me looking at a newspaper with photographs of people who had been shot—she took it away and scolded me.

To this day there isn’t a single book about the war in our house. And I’ve been living without mama for a long time now…