Moskalyk (stranger) Alexander Avramivna
With fire in hell.
My mother Vasylivka. I love all my heart like a village in Novomoskovsk in the Dnipropetrovsk region. Since the distant childhood and adolescence like. As a mother - dearest and sweetest, that is in every person. Here, with my grandmother - midwife, in sunny July day in 1925, my mother gave birth to the world and God bless. Here I studied in school before the war received incomplete secondary education zvidala first love and, unfortunately, the first shock, horror and suffering ...
But who would not say, but my mother Vasylivka revived from the ashes and still smoldering in flames last war, and today is not the most beautiful villages with thousands of our renewed Ukraine. Located on both sides of it flowing tyhoplynnoyi Samara - tributaries of the Dnieper-Slavuta - it is immersed in a cherry-apple orchards, the colorful flowers, alleys and squares, surrounded on all sides of violent pine-oak forests, where we children at one time zvidaly all paths - paths and not only entertained but also collected doridni mushrooms and berries, and who now bring forth abundantly.
A village is a rich people. Here with his grandfather - grandfather living descendants of the Zaporozhian Cossacks, kind, hardworking, friendly and honest Ukrainian. With the end of centuries farmers, they are able to grow high yields of cereals and industrial crops, sunflower and corn, vegetables and fruits. And that big and tasty and we watermelons and melons! When referring to until slynka rolls.
In imagination I now see their peers - girls and boys. What they were beautiful and cheerful! Girls - real and adorable brown-eyed Slav, from which artists write icon. They went there, "where the old grass, where zoriv Dalina clear." And there, "where black eyes and white ruchenky night I dreamed ..." And the guys - the descendants of the Cossacks - giants Zaporozhye urine, strong handsome, ready to die stand for liberty and happiness of its people.
Where are they now, my dear friends of childhood and adolescence? How has their fate, dispersed through the world with his will and look for them, as the wind field. I know only some of them, and we had so many. Our beloved Vasylivka.
War. What a terrible word! It is cursed, separated us, disfigured our souls and destiny. Took the most expensive-life of joy, happiness and freedom. Scattered around the whole wide world, traces have long been overgrown with moss - grass.
At best there were only traces of memory.
Nazi occupation, as evil vampires invaded in our village in early July 1941. From the "impulses" as they say, new owners began to direct new orders. Once baked "commandant" summoned to the office premises of several villagers and farm in broken Russian, smiling, all the notched teeth of pathos announced: "Do not be afraid of us Germans. We came in peace. German authorities humane. Dutim allowed to go to school still. " And zalyvsya laughter. He began to teach us German language - all together, from a class. Later school building occupied Gestapo. It has been no school, and place of punishment "disobedient."
I do digress. My father was stranger Abraham I. disabled, so it is not called into active Soviet army. His brother Grigory father worked as head of the village council. He left in the rear of the enemy commander guerrilla group, which since the early days of the war acted in our forests. My friend's uncle on his mother Paul Chabanenko - left the "office" storekeeper farm to have the opportunity through his partisans to supply food and other necessities. I must say that for the time being, all our big family carefully performed its duties - by all means to fight against the hated enemy. Children, as it should have been reliable signalers.
A few days before the arrival of the invaders, our family and several families - the activists tried to go to the far rear of the Dnieper. Evacuation failed. After riding away on zaedet. Germans overtook us and we left one or return to their Vasylivka. And then began all the trouble. Fabulous, fierce, terrible. Soon the village came a detachment of German punitive. Here with them "znyuhalysya" werewolves - homegrown policemen. They knew the villagers knew, as they say, who is breathing, and who as "met" new owners. First on the "chair of justice" got my cousin Nicholas Chabanenko - son of Uncle Paul. Then it is not yet turned 15. He was one of the signalers in partisan.
The Germans and apostates policemen pozhanyaly people on the square near the village council and house of culture. I started accomplished is that if you asked even today hair stands on end. All noticed a man lying on the ground elderly. On his body was no longer living space. It was my uncle - Paul Chabanenko.
Beside him, with bound hands and feet. Also, beaten beyond recognition, lay Nicholas - his son. None of the participants were not allowed to approach them on a step.
With the submission of police was exposed as partisan detachment. Detachment Commander GI Prikhodko - my uncle and Commissioner -P.I. Chornous, punisher tortured in front of almost all the farmers worse than the worst beast. Then - unconscious sent to Kiev, and from there, as witnesses said one of the camps to faterlyandu.
In the village, as everywhere in our land, hell every day rozhoralosya with a bang. After several other torture "disobedience" punitive again returned to Chabanenkiv already a few days lying on the ground half-. They no longer looked like himself, they were the shadows. Paul Chabanenko hung on a pillar, and his son Nicholas - was asked whether he tell the truth about the guerrillas, or silent, as a parent. Of course, in this state, Nicholas could not speak. He just looked at his father, iknuv and lost consciousness. Both punitive hung on a pillar. In fear fellow father and son hung almost a week. It is to no one dared oppose "peaceful power." But did not help.
This is not just a few examples of humanity and cruelty of those who came before us "in peace." These examples from years of occupation was not alone, but thousands. Parish village was a Savka (do not remember his name). It was a real policeman to "own" the evil of the Soviet regime, he vindictive guilty and innocent, published Gestapo Communists and Komsomol members, rank and file activists, just decent people, self-tortured anyone who fell to his intoxicated muzzle and bloodstained hands.
That happened paradox. When the invaders retreated to his den fascist, Savka fled with them. Later, before the end of the war as if wounded, returned to the village with the Soviet medal "For Courage". And so unfortunately happened. Police calm down the crowd. German pryhvosnya judged legitimate Soviet court. The sentence - death for treason.
In 1942 the Nazis began mass exportation of young people, particularly minors, boys and girls, at hard labor for the Reich. It is My turn. At this news - weeping and sobbing my dear mother and all family members did not pay attention. Oh, my Mom! Good and gentle, soft features of her face, weary hands, gentle, often sad her smile - that in my memory she left to age.
Do not help her sobbing and despair. Do men can understand the pain fanatic mother? And since the fascist education.
Together with the Nazis forcibly took me another five girls: Katya Amendment, Alexander Gorbach, Alexander Gerasimenko, Nina and Anna Pyhanenko Katalnikov. We do not have time and get dressed, take at least some way, as in ochutylysya surrounded by Gestapo and police, and later in wagons. Together - girls and boys. At the bare wooden floor, pour water on hardened barbed wire tightly closed windows and doors at headquarters. In the vestibule - Germans with machine guns and vicious dogs Aryan.
Road to "paradise" we seemed endless. The sky and sun, we saw up at the station of Cologne. With cars - the lacquer factory. How, then said: "From the flames of hell." We were placed in barracks. Worked for 12-14 hours a day. Sometimes, "on request", and at night. "Rested" a two tier bunk on mattresses and pillows, stuffed with straw, in which mass plodylysya various parasites, including lice
And the fleas that were not given is that after work exhausted sleep at least an hour or two, but to lie. And yet haunted harsh varnishes and paints. Not one of us endured their stench - Barack rozmischavsya at the factory.
Our guard was a young German soldier with a twisted hand. They said that it is made guerrillas. Especially cruelly he treated with the guys. Obviously, the owners allowed him to use all forms of abuse of slaves, so in a way to banish anger at their fate.
And the food. I will say in advance that the Germans pigs fed much better. In our diet dominated rutabaga. Crude it is still possible to eat, but as weld, it is probably more difficult to find hyhoty. So this unwholesome had us eat every day. Very rarely were given to us semidecayed potatoes in their skins, different Balanda, where the grain of corn is unknown zdohanyala a friend, and to snack more and coffee with crushed oak acorns. As a result of this "rich" food my peers and older workers often suffered from tuberculosis and other diseases often died. Their bodies were taken somewhere. Dashing disease - scarlet fever and diphtheria - they found me. It was and kintsi1943 year. To my happiness, so to say, good people put me in hospital, where prolikuvalasya 40 days. J though heavily sick, but the days spent in hospital, compared with the work in the factory, seemed to me an instant paradise.
We freed the American troops. In the yard was a warm April 1945. Although we met soldiers unfamiliar to us, but to learn about freedom, we rejoiced as small children who long to see their native mother.
In the imagination of every sowed native land, home, family and friends (whether alive or healthy), our beloved Vasylivka.
I think it should not be telling in detail how each of us was selected to his beloved home. It is now not significant. Joy won all ills. At the end of May 1945 I was in the arms of loved ones and dear to my heart the people who remained alive after the Nazi oppression.
I wanted so much to learn. And I at least partially achieved his. In 1946 I entered. And in 1948 she graduated from Chernivtsi financial industry. Later she married. Even with her husband Michael Y. Moskalyk moved to the city Zhydachiv Lviv region. Here I took a job working as chief accountant savings bank. The years passed. In 1972, by transferring and my fate will lead us to the city of Ternopil. I was appointed chief inspector of the regional savings bank. In this role, I met the retirement age.
Yet in thy youth taught a bitter life. I was given all the work. For me it awarded letters of commendation, prizes and valuable gifts, set an example to others. Nice! And in 1972 I was given the title of "Outstanding State Bank", and later awarded a medal "50 Years of Victory in Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945" and the medals "Veteran of Labor" and "Defender of the Fatherland."
From the first days of participating in the work of Ternopil city office of Ukrainian Union prisoners-victims of Nazism. Board that I was able to help many of my fellow sufferers find addresses and required documents to be achieved from the current German government compensation for hard work in captivity.
It is sad to remember. But I will say. What after the release of our young people, even people who were forcibly taken to hard labor in Nazi Germany, met at home, "to say the least," not friendly. Like - we, "voluntarily went to a flame war in hell for worst enemy of humanity. Ironically, it was so. Even now our enemies continue to consider us second-class people without the slightest reason, and facts confirmation resort to image, humiliating our human dignity. And let it remain on their conscience.
However, we are grateful to the authorities, now independent Ukraine, primarily because we recognized combatants of the war. We are legally provided some benefits, though I rarely, we enjoy a spa treatment, recently slightly increased our pension and so on.
Life live - not a field. With all the twists and turns in the basis I am satisfied with their lot, taking, of course, the postwar years. Little good. Sensitive and a good man (he died in 2000). I have two adult daughters and granddaughter. Constantly on the move to social work. You can live. I pray God that there was peace throughout the land, and was heard no crying children and happy their voices and singing.
