In the Shadow of the Storm

by Ella Zeiss

  Wilhelm nodded, grateful for her words, but she could tell that they weren’t enough to lighten his heart. She reached out to her husband. ‘We’ll manage,’ she whispered bravely.

  He squeezed her hand lovingly.

  Anna felt a slight shimmer of hope begin to grow inside her. Maybe they really would manage. They were all together at least, and right now nothing else mattered.

  The truck came to an abrupt halt. Rita woke with a start and rubbed her eyes sleepily. ‘Where are we?’ she said. She seemed to have forgotten the events of the night.

  ‘We’re going on a journey,’ Anna explained soothingly.

  ‘Everyone out!’ The man who had been sitting with them stood up and unlocked the tailboard. It crashed open and Yvo whined in her sleep.

  ‘Shush,’ Anna said, quietly comforting the child while she struggled to her feet. She waited until the two older children had jumped down to Wilhelm, then handed him their sleeping daughter.

  In the light of the headlamps, they could see Krontal station. An alarming number of men, women and children, all as scared and bleary-eyed as themselves, were waiting in a fenced-off area guarded by armed OGPU men for whatever happened next.

  Anna and her family had arrived just in time, it seemed, because suddenly everyone began moving. The men started to load the resettlers, as they were now officially called, into the waiting freight cars.

  Parents held on to their children so as not to lose them in the crush. Pushed towards the railway cars, Anna and Wilhelm did likewise, standing on either side of Erich, who carried his sister while Rita clung to his arm. They joined the queue with racing hearts.

  ‘You can leave your luggage with me, Comrade,’ one of the OGPU men said to a woman standing in front of Anna in the queue. ‘It’s far too crowded in there. The luggage is to be transported in a different carriage.’

  The woman stared at him in shock, and then at the canvas bag she held pressed to her chest. With her free hand she was holding on to a boy of about five years old. It was clear that the bag and its contents were all she and her son still owned.

  ‘Your luggage,’ the man repeated gruffly. Resigned, she handed it to him. ‘Get in!’

  The woman stumbled as the policeman shoved her towards the entrance of the carriage.

  Anna prepared herself.

  ‘Your bags, Comrade,’ the man said, turning to her.

  ‘Thank you, we’re fine,’ she said as firmly as possible, taking a better grip on her bag.

  ‘It’s too crowded. You must leave it with us. It’ll be delivered to you at the other end.’

  She knew it was a lie. If she let go of it now, she’d never see it again.

  ‘We need the bags for our children,’ Wilhelm said steadily, and the man shrugged. He probably wasn’t acting on orders and didn’t want to risk any trouble.

  ‘Get in!’ he said, waving the family through.

  Behind her, Anna could hear him repeat his demands to the next passengers and felt a wave of gratitude because they had been allowed to keep the few belongings they had.

  Her brief feeling of triumph didn’t last long.

  On first setting foot on the ladder and peering into the railway car, she was overwhelmed with a sense of horror. Would this dark, windowless vehicle made of rough planks of wood nailed together really be their home for the next few days? There were no seats or berths to sleep on and nowhere to wash, just straw on the floor as if they were no better than animals.

  ‘Forty per car,’ one of the men shouted to his comrades, ‘then they should all fit in!’

  Anna reeled – forty people in one small railcar – but they had no choice. Holding Rita tightly, with Erich and Wilhelm right behind her, she headed straight to the back of the car where one corner was still free. That way at least they’d have a wall behind them to lean against. While she stacked the suitcases on top of each other and calmed the children, Wilhelm brought over some straw to make things slightly more comfortable, then sat down and wrapped his arms tightly around his family. There was nothing more they could do. Now they would just have to wait.

  The car got fuller and fuller. The first people in had been lucky enough to bag a place next to a wall, but the rest just dropped down in the middle of the floor. Anna was relieved to see that most of them had managed to keep the little luggage they had, but even so, it was obvious that none of them were properly equipped for what lay ahead.

  Shouting close to the door suddenly attracted her attention.

  ‘My son!’ a woman pleaded in broken Russian. ‘He wasn’t with us when they came to fetch us. He’s only ten! They promised to find him – we were told we wouldn’t have to leave without him.’ Tears were streaming down her face while she pleaded with the men. ‘Please – his name is Josef Bold from Rosental. You’ve got to find him! I can’t leave without my child!’

  ‘We’ll send him on as soon as we find him. Get in!’

  The woman buried her face in her hands. ‘No, my boy!’ she wailed desperately.

  An older girl, her cheeks also wet with tears, put her arm round the woman’s shoulders to comfort her. ‘Come on, Mama, let’s get in.’

  In a daze, the woman allowed herself to be helped into the car. Her sorrowful cries broke Anna’s heart. She didn’t want to imagine what it must be like to lose a child in this way, even though she knew it might actually be better for the boy.

  Finally, when the car was so full there was hardly anywhere left to sit, a couple of buckets were flung into the carriage with no explanation. Then the barred doors were shut with a bang and through the slats Anna watched them being secured with a padlock.

  They were prisoners, but at least a little air and light could get into the carriage through the bars or it would have been unbearable.

  Not much later the rattling train began to move.

  Anna eyed her fellow sufferers. The people sat in silence, lost in thought, and even the children were uncannily silent. More than one face was covered in tears.

  Then suddenly, from out of a corner, a male voice sounded out, singing ‘Jesus, Still Lead On’. Shaking and timid at first, the voice grew stronger as more and more people joined in. While the train speeded up, taking them towards their unknown future, Anna and Wilhelm sang with all their hearts. Whatever happened, God was with them. They would not be bowed down nor would they ever give up hope.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Mama, I’m thirsty.’

  The sound of Yvo’s whining voice pulled Anna out of a daze where she’d been listening to the rattling wheels of the train. Thankfully, after all the disruption in the night, the children had been lulled to sleep for a few hours by the gentle bumping motion of the train, but they were coming back to life now and they started to complain.

  ‘Me too,’ Rita said, ‘and I’m hungry.’

  ‘I need to go to the toilet,’ Erich whispered in her ear, ashamed.

  ‘Come with me.’ Wilhelm stretched out his arm to his son. Carefully, so as not to step on anyone, he led him over to the bucket next to the door.

  Only now did Anna realise what it was for. She shuddered in disgust – they really were being treated like animals.

  ‘Mama.’ Yvo tugged her sleeve and Anna turned her mind to the problem at hand. She poured some water into the top of the flask and gave the two girls something to drink, before taking a sip herself. They would need to be prudent with their water supplies. On the journey so far they had been given no reason to suppose they would be well looked after. She had no idea when they might be given fresh water or something to eat.

  Next, she broke off bits of bread for each of the children, telling them to eat it slowly to stop their hunger. She could remember the horrific famine at the beginning of the 1920s but her children had never experienced hunger before now.

  Once they had eaten their pathetic meal, Anna took out the book of fairy tales she had refused to leave behind and passed it to Wilhelm. ‘Would you like to read to the children?’

  He no
dded. The dawn had broken by now and enough light was filtering through the doors, so Wilhelm opened the book and started to read out loud. Anna was pleased to see other children cautiously moving closer. She smiled at them kindly and they sat down on the floor beside her, their eyes wide as they listened to the story.

  After he’d finished, the children were less shy and started playing together. They showed each other the toys they had managed to bring with them and talked quietly.

  The sound of the children’s voices took their parents’ minds off their own worries, and people started to introduce themselves.

  Soon a group of men including Wilhelm were standing by the door watching the landscape roll by, trying to guess the course of their journey.

  Anna took some water over to a young mother whose small child was crying. She obviously hadn’t managed to bring any with her when she was evicted.

  Anna knew that she needed all the water she had for her own family, but she couldn’t bear to see the little girl, not much younger than Yvo, in distress.

  ‘Thank you,’ the young mother said, visibly moved. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated, as she helped her daughter drink sip by sip, taking care not to spill a single drop.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Anna said with a small smile. ‘I’m Anna. My daughter must be about the same age as yours.’

  ‘Maria. And that’s my husband, Albert.’ She pointed at one of the men standing beside Wilhelm.

  ‘Is that your only child?’

  ‘Yes, for now.’ Maria smiled and gently cradled her stomach. Only now did Anna see that it was slightly rounded.

  ‘If you need anything, let me know.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope it won’t be necessary though.’ She looked worried now. ‘I mean, they’ll give us bread and water at the very least, won’t they?’

  Anna nodded, wanting to calm her. ‘Of course they will.’ But the real question was how much and when.

  She gradually made her way down the freight car and less than an hour later knew that at least another eight families faced the same fate. Five German, two Russian, and one Tartar. They were all victims of the process of dekulakization, even though only two of them could be said to own large farms. The others had nothing more than a smallholding with a cow or two, and a horse if they were lucky. Somehow they had all managed to attract their neighbours’ jealousy and distrust, or that of the authorities.

  Anna turned round to look at the children. Just now they seemed happy enough with their new playmates, thank goodness. She went over to Wilhelm and rested her head on his shoulder, letting the fresh air flow into her lungs. She hadn’t realised how stuffy it was inside the carriage already, with the smell of so many people mingled with the stench of urine coming from the buckets.

  Wilhelm pulled her close, and for a while they just stood there and stared out at the landscape racing by.

  ‘Goodbye, Crimea,’ Anna whispered quietly.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ Wilhelm whispered in her ear.

  She nodded, but knew it would never be the same, even if they really did manage to return one day. They were outcasts, dispossessed. They didn’t belong here any more. To be honest, they hadn’t for years. Weren’t you supposed to feel safe and welcome in your own country? Their home hadn’t felt safe since before the World War.

  Anna’s fingers ran along the hem of her coat, where the only keepsake from the old country was safely hidden, along with some money and what was left of the family jewels. Perhaps they would be able to find peace there some day.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she asked Wilhelm after a while. It was way past lunchtime and she could hear his stomach rumbling.

  He shook his head. ‘No.’

  He was lying but she didn’t contradict him. They had to think of the children first until they knew whether they were going to be fed.

  She picked up Yvo, who had just run over to them, and dropped a kiss on her tangled red hair.

  ‘I’m hungry, Mama.’

  ‘I know, darling. We’ll eat in a minute and then I’m going to comb your hair.’

  As they moved back to their space, she collected Erich and Rita on the way.

  ‘I want some milk,’ Yvo demanded when she was given a mouthful of water and a little piece of bread and ham.

  ‘I know, angel, but there isn’t any, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ the little girl wailed. Rita looked at Anna hopefully, but Erich kept his eyes down as he chewed his piece of bread.

  Anna sighed. ‘Our old house is gone,’ she explained quietly. ‘We’ll be given a new one soon.’

  ‘What’s it like where we’re going?’ Erich asked, sounding interested.

  ‘It’s different. There’s lots of snow in the winter.’ She tried to make their destination sound exciting for the children. ‘It’s going to be a real adventure.’

  The children smiled at her. Her words seemed to have taken the edge off their fear for a moment. How she wished she could calm her own fears as easily.

  At last, as it was starting to get dark again, the train finally came to a halt and the barred doors were opened for the first time. All around Anna, people stood up, looking relieved. She straightened her limbs, stiff from sitting so long, and looked at the door too. Perhaps they’d be allowed to stretch their legs a little and relieve themselves.

  But the armed policeman who entered the carriage pushed everyone back forcefully. ‘Sit down!’ he thundered, and numerous shocked faces looked back at him. Some other men took the buckets outside and emptied them in the bushes, then someone brought a large steaming saucepan and Anna’s heart jumped with joy. There would be something warm to eat after all – but her hopes were instantly dashed.

  ‘Water!’ a woman gasped, whose cup was the first to be filled.

  ‘Next!’ the man shouted, without saying anything to her. She had spoken in German, and he probably hadn’t understood what she was saying. Not many Germans had managed to master Russian fluently. Anna was suddenly very grateful to her mother, who had made her learn the language of their masters so long ago.

  ‘May we please have soup for the children?’ she asked, addressing the man in Russian when it was her turn.

  For a moment he looked almost embarrassed. ‘There isn’t enough food for everyone,’ he said. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

  Anna nodded as she wrapped her hands around the small pot filled with their family ration of hot water. Crestfallen, she went back to their place.

  Her heart was heavy as she broke off some more bread from the diminishing loaf and crumbled it into the pot.

  Once the children had been fed, she and Wilhelm shared the leftovers of their improvised soup. It was a drop of nothing compared to the hunger that was beginning to eat at them, but it was good to have something warm inside again to ward off the cold, which was getting more and more noticeable despite the fuggy air as the night closed in.

  When it was dark, the family cuddled up together.

  Why on earth hadn’t she packed a few blankets? Anna couldn’t stop blaming herself, although she knew it was impossible to pack everything they would need in the coming weeks and months into just two suitcases. There simply wasn’t enough room.

  Although she was shattered, she found it difficult to fall asleep. Her thoughts kept circling around what the journey would bring and what would happen afterwards. The carriage was so crowded that she couldn’t stretch out on the floor. Her bones soon started to ache from the uncomfortable position and the hard surface, but she didn’t dare move much for fear of disturbing the children in their sleep.

  Eventually exhaustion caught up with her and she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  By the following day the small community had developed something close to a routine. In the morning they received more boiling water and were glad to have it. After all, it was better than nothing.

  Wilhelm read out another fairy tale, the children all played together and the grown-ups swapped stories.

  Only once did their
emotions run high, when the train stopped for two hours in the afternoon for no apparent reason. People banged against the walls, shouted, begged to be let out into the fresh air, but nothing happened.

  ‘There’s a village over there,’ Wilhelm whispered quietly to Anna when they realised that they were not going to be allowed out, not even for the briefest moment. ‘They probably don’t want anyone to see us, or else they’re worried we’ll run off.’

  ‘What good would that do?’ Anna muttered bitterly. None of the resettlers were planning to run away – they had no chance whatsoever of succeeding.

  Maybe someone wanted to appease the angry passengers, or maybe the policeman had meant what he said the day before, but they really were given a pot of watery soup in the early evening. It felt like a feast at last.

  And so one day led to the next. While the men studied the route, which seemed to be heading north one minute and then back south the next, the women tried to protect their children from the cold which was growing worse every day, forcing its way inside the train. They had definitely left the mild climate of the Crimea behind. By the time they crossed the Volga, they realised that the winter that was coming would be very different from anything they’d seen before.

  On the fourth day they were finally allowed to leave the train for half an hour. Although they were in an uninhabited steppe in the middle of nowhere, their guards remained as wary as ever. First they let out the women and children, then they were all rounded up again before it was the men’s turn. Despite the cold, the breath of fresh air did the children the world of good. They had red cheeks and warm faces and had to be coaxed back into the dark wagons to be locked in again.