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Archangelica - children German settlement

Chronicles of the ancient genus PEC (Paetz), little-known pages of history from the XIV century to the present day

Light memory of Evgeny Petrovich Bozhko, historian-researcher



Bride of the North was named newspaper of Melbourne in 1956, a famous Australian ballerina Tamara des Fontaines when she came out eamus for Scot David burns. Tamara has gone through a difficult and thorny path to the heights of his profession. After her birth parents had to leave Arkhangelsk, as my father was in the NKVD lists for the expulsion, and perhaps even worse – the fate of experience did not, the examples were. By 1941, Tamara is studying in the 6th grade and successfully engaged in the ballet Studio of the pioneer of the city of Rostov-on-don. Great dream girl destroys a big war. Evacuation from the city, first from the German army, and then, as it happened, with the German refugees in Hamburg, to the relatives of his father. The girl who dreams of ballet, and at all times tries to do ballet exercises. Finally, in Hamburg Tamara enters the ballet school Anelise Sauer: "... I did not spare myself ... the ballet was for me like a distant light in a dark night, as a nun I denied everything that had nothing to do with the ballet..." Successful performances in the final ballet "Carnival" critics amicably noted in the annual journal of arts, and her photo falls on the cover of the magazine. It is a success! But Germany had held a difficult post-war reforms and the family des of Fontaneau forced to go to distant Australia as the "working contract" workers for Tamara, her mother and sister.
The training continues and in the pitching of the steamer "General Chosen", which travel hundreds of immigrants from Europe. In Melbourne ballerina works as a cleaner at the couple's Hopkins, and 2 shillings and 6 pence for the lesson she is allowed to do with the ballet GILDEMEISTER. Soon, should be invited to dance in the ballet "Les Sylphide", then with a partner Vasily Trunov Tamara dances in the ballet "La Maire". Organization "Gilda Ballet" presents ballerina flowers – this recognition!
At the end of the "worker's contract" Tamara is dancing in the theater and conducts courses for children ballet. And so for 35 years. Her ballet school is thriving. Gathering money for a Deposit and taking the loan from the Bank, family des of Fontaines buys a house with an attached ballet Studio. The loan is paid for another 20 years, but despite the hard life, the family is happy in a free, truly democratic country.

Evgeny Bozhko.


22 June 1941 was an ordinary day. Dad went to work early, even though there was a resurrection. Very often there were clean-UPS, when people had to work for free for the state in favor of the Motherland. We, the kids, had school holidays. As always, my friends and I were sitting in the gazebo in front of our house. The loudspeaker, hanging at the back door of the house, played Patriotic songs. Suddenly, at twelve o'clock, the music was interrupted, and a disturbing message was sent about the German army's attack on the Russian borders. World war II began. People in a panic ran out of the houses, noisy talked. All faces wore an expression of fear. We, the children, in fright, not really knowing what was happening around, silently watched this catastrophic phenomenon had an impact on people. Our leader, Stalin, delivered a Patriotic speech. Mobilization of men and youth has begun. The son of uncle Petit (father's brother) Georges, 17-year-old schoolboy was drafted into the army. These young people, who do not have military training, were sent to the frontline. The Germans mowing them like sheep, in the first days of the war. The radio announced the order: "All the inhabitants having radios should take them to the warehouse." It was evident how reluctant the people they passed. Leave could only be the speakers. My dad, who had two good receivers, passed both. But he hid the homemade radio in the cellar. Later, at the risk of being caught, he listened to German news on the promotion front. A few weeks later the panic of the war took place. Rita PEC (my sister, my mother) before the war, he graduated from factory trade apprenticeship in tailoring and took it to the factory to sew military uniforms. Children continued to go to school, I was the Chairman of the Council of the group of pioneers in his class.





After school, I visited the ballet Studio, and the success there was excellent. Our choreographer, Ivan Stepanovich in his youth, he danced in the ballet of the Mariinsky theatre. Our ballet class was chosen to dance in the ballet "Aida" in the Rostov Greater Theater in the role of "arabchat". My parents could only recognize me from the white patches on the soles of my black Slippers. The theatre was beautiful, wardrobes — spacious, mirrored walls, dazzled at the entrance. Lots of corridors leading to the stage, and the place behind the scenes seemed endless. The huge stage opened a view of a huge three-tier auditorium. Surrounded by a large square, the theater was built in the form of a tractor.
After a short time the shops have disappeared all of their provisions. Rationing was not given, as in his speech, Stalin was assuring the people that the Soviet Union provided with all cards not needed. Big waiting lists stood for bread and kerosene. Very often, the whole family went to the Park at two o'clock in the morning, where there was a live queue. Were secretly given rooms. The police did not allow the night to stand in line, so anything like walking, moving through the Park. Some sat on benches like a pair of lovers. At seven o'clock the shop opened, all ran there. The tumult, the cries, sometimes people confuse the numbers and running all night were in vain. We have to go to the end of the queue, and before you get to the counter — often the bread is already over. Then had to buy flour in the market for a more expensive price, and bread or crumpets grandmother baked herself.
Winter has come. Hundreds of women and girls have mobilized to earthwork outside the city, including mom, aunt Tanya, Rita and many others. Poor women lived there in terrible conditions, in damp dugouts, slept on straw on the icy floor. They hardly cut the frozen ground with picks and shovels. The work went very slowly, during the night the snow filled pit. These pits were to become a defense against German tanks. Every two weeks, exhausted women went home to rest. Many had frostbitten hands and feet. Arriving home, all clothes were removed at the threshold, so as not to bring lice in the house. The hard work was all in vain. Only very sick, old or those who could and knew to whom to bribe, were released and continued to work in the city. The Germans dropped leaflets: "ladies, Ladies, do not dig your dimples, our tanooki will jump through your dimples". The Russian army was detained by the quickly advancing German army at the Taganrog. Began regular bombing Rostov. Easily wounded Russian soldiers walked from the front, and the population gave them shelter. Residents dug cracks near houses, in parks and in the yards of schools for rescue from raids. Anxiety and raids interrupted sometimes teachings in schools. We spend a lot of time running through the queues. Our small house in Tkachevsky lane was seriously destroyed by raids, so we were moved to the house where my mother's sister aunt Tanya lived.
28 November 1941, dad went to work, mom was sick. After returning home, dad said that trolley buses do not go, the city silence and a few people on the streets.  Dad was always very prudent. He told us to get out of the house. Looking outside from the window, we noticed that people were walking the Garden, the main street. Very soon began looting stores. Many people were carrying food. When they ran out, suffered something: toys, paintings, furniture. The noise was like a Bazaar, with excitement rushing people, unaware that they are barking. I really wanted to have a larger bear, but we could only envy, looking out the window. Suddenly the crowd rushed to escape, could be heard shouting: "the Germans". Daddy told us to get into an enclosure under the bed. Although he knew that the Germans were a cultural nation, but soldiers are soldiers. The streets were deserted, the houses talked in whispers, shutters and doors locked. Everyone was waiting for military events. There were a few explosions or bombs. The power went out and the water ran from the taps. Luckily grandma had already poured water into the tub and large pots. Several dad and husband Jin slowly came to the front door where they could see all the Small Avenue.
Not far from my aunt Tanya house was an old one-story mansion. Beside him stood two German tanks. Later we learned, that in this house was the German the commandant. In many places Rostov burned homes. We didn't know if they were set on fire by anyone, or if they were fired by shells. Nick didn't put them out. Germans, through a Reproductor, asked the people to go outside, to make a ruler to the river don and to transfer buckets of water to a fire place. Opposite us lived a Jew, a specialist in children's diseases, he spoke German and did not run away from Rostov, not believing the Russian propaganda that the Germans destroyed the Jews. He translated the call of the Germans to put out fires. The residents of the houses about which the house burned, came out to extinguish the fire.
After a few days the shells of the Russian artillery, which was on the other side of the don, began to explode closer and closer to the German commandant. Instantly German tanks and Germans disappeared. The commandant's office and other buildings were destroyed. Russian partisans, and then the army occupied Rostov. Later it became known that only a few German tanks broke through.  Doctors and many others arrested for cooperating with the Germans. Life in Rostov has become very difficult. The bombing of the Germans intensified. The importation of products to the shops became less and less. On the street corners of the old woman was selling cups of roasted sunflower seeds. Before the war, my mother and grandmother bought two bags of cream at the mill (flour with sand for the pig, which was going to buy). There was another sack of onions. It all came in handy. Twice a day we ate tortillas and raw onions, and ate seeds for a snack. Tea and washed the sand stuck in his teeth from the pellets.
Mom and dad were in a panic, and the city didn't allow people to evacuate.  Life had no hope of improvement. Suddenly went the happy talk about leaving. Dad met a friend of the accountant, they served together for a short time a few years ago. The accountant worked now in some state farm around Grateful. He promised to send the call to mother's work in the farm. After a long time came the long-awaited call mom, grandma Rita and me. Pope, as a man, not had the right to leave Rostov. It was very painful for me to part with my father and all my childhood friends. But we were hoping to get home soon.


The cars were Packed with passengers. On the shelves people are not lying, and sat four people.  Sitting in the aisles, did not give the opportunity to pass. At night the train stopped in a field. All thought, that will RAID Germans. But, it turned out, the military checked passports and searched for deserters from the army. Mom showed all the documents, the soldiers found fault that Rita of military age (at this time, in some places, the Rossi girls were drafted into the army). "The law is the law" — told the soldiers mother. Mom tried to persuade him that if there is such a law, then, on arriving at the farm, Rita also mobilize, but at least she will know where the family.  Some of the soldiers calmed down. In июне1942 year when we went on the train Uzlovaya station Grateful.











Transport to the farm was not.  My mother was told that trucks carrying wheat can bring us there. The first old truck was filled to the top with wheat. The driver took me first and the suitcase. Something as me raised to the top. The truck moved on. He was driving not very fast, but every bump wheat floated on the inclination of the machine and I with her. There was nothing to hold on to. Approaching the edge, I frantically grabbed with both hands overboard.  Part of the wheat was poured on the ground by inertia. Fear of falling, I held on to the edge of a Board with his numb hands. My suitcase made a hole in the grain with its weight. After some time the truck stopped at the crossroads. The driver and his assistant shouted to me:"here we will drop you off, the farm to the right."  Me and my suitcase were removed. "Wait here for yours, the other trucks will bring them." The driver started the noisy engine and took off. I was perplexed when I looked at the truck leaving. Gradually, he became less and less, then, as a point, and it soon disappeared. Two dusty roads with deep holes crossed here. There isn't a soul in sight. Around the horizon was a wheat field. I sat down and wept bitterly. The gentle wind swayed the ears of wheat and they are as gentle waves obeyed him. The locusts flew here and there. Some little beetle was buried in the cool ground. Stupid grasshopper jumped on the road and nearly drowned in dust. I was scared, it seemed, what if the other trucks would come today, and maybe for many days. What am I to do? Go alone with a heavy suitcase, not knowing where and how far to the farm. I was afraid to move. So I sat in despair for a long time. Suddenly a strange sound broke the whispering wheat. I jumped up, the noise seemed to be coming from the same side I came from. But only a Mirage bluish color played in the distance. The noise was approaching, I hardly considered the dark point. I still thought it seemed to me. The point began to increase. I was jumping, waving, screaming, though they probably couldn't see me and hear me. The truck began to take shape on the horizon and every minute was approaching the intersection. Grandma was sitting next to the driver. It was such a joy to see grandma, the driver and the truck in the endless space. Grandma reassured me, told me that when mom, Rita and things will bring, in the evening machine from the farm will come for us.
The farm gave us a small room - part of some buildings. The floor was of ordinary boards, fairly clean. We put the suitcases and the nodes with blankets. Some woman took us to the dining room.  The village boys looked at us like beasts. In the dining room a delicious smell. Meat roast could be eaten as much as desired. After the hunger strike in Rostov grandmother warned us not to eat too much at once. But we could not resist such a meal. On the same night, we all had dysentery. The wooden restroom wasn't close. It was necessary to run fast. After a couple of days mom was called into the office to work. Grandma distributed our blankets and pillows like beds on the floor. Suitcases serve instead of tables. There were holidays, all the children tried to make friends with us. They've never seen a city kid. My mom liked the work. The accountant who sent the call to his mother was on a business trip. Our lives went well. There was plenty of food, although monotonous. "People are very nice, wars can not even be heard"- we wrote to the Pope in Rostov.
Suddenly, after a while, the children began to shun us. The mother noticed that the servants treated her coolly. We all couldn't figure out what happened. Chairman of the farm called mom into the office and said that the accountant who made the challenge before us, was a spy, he was arrested, and the mother suspect. The President is a kind, decent man believed my mom that the accountant had never met. He gave mom all of our documents. "Leave Grateful, I didn't see you and don't know" was his advice. We were given old wagon, she's from gravity creaked. Only grandmother have, Kucera and things skinny, the old horse could pull. It wasn't hard for us to keep up with her. In places where it was uphill, we pushed the cart. The coachman was a young refugee, a Jew. He brought us to Thanksgiving, helped us get our stuff on the sidewalk. Mom went to the job market. She said that there are many refugees, and you have the direction of the farm, and go there. She didn't want to say that kicked us out of there, thinking that we are spies. So we lived about a week on the street. Slept on our knots. Many refugees as well as we sat at the station and streets. It's good that it was warm. One simple woman came up to her mother and said, "My husband was killed at the front, I have five children, and you have things, come to live with me, we will sell your things, and we will all eat." Her hut was made of clay, straw roof and clay floor. At the entrance to the hut black fleas dozens jumped to his feet. The hostess explained to us that the summer is hot, a lot of dust, so fleas greatly multiply.
Our lives are again turned in a good way.  In the market to sell you anything especially clothes. And the peasants to buy flour and vegetable oil. Twice a day, grandma and the hostess baked a wonderful, fluffy white puffs. We dipped pieces of donuts in vegetable oil and washed down with tea from some dried herbs. The stove is made of clay and straw were before the house, in her podduvalom and baked these muffins. Mom wrote to dad our new address. But the response from dad was. Rumors were coming from visitors that the German army is moving. One day my mother sold something at the market and saw my dad. Joy not was of the late. The Supreme power has United our family. Pope told, that hunger in Rostov was a terrible. The Germans bombed all the bridges over the don river. Communication with Bataisk and Novocherkassk was interrupted. The Pope and many others with bullets crossed the don river in small rowboats. From there he could take the ticket to a Grateful, having a business trip in a city where evacuated of its chemical Institute.  Dad rested with us for one week and went to the designated place of work. My mother continued to look for a job at the labor exchange, but the results were negative. Things we've left a bit and so we were forced to sell clothing. But again our fate has turned its course. My mother was given a job in a Plague station, in the Turkmen district. Mom was hesitant to take this job, but my grandmother convinced her that now is no plague, and then we'll run out in the street. The documents are signed, a good empty truck to come pick us up. We said goodbye to the hostess and asked to inform the Pope of our new location.


The plague point was wired.  Scientists and other workers lived there. Next to my mother's office we were given a small but clean room and two beds. Mother taught Rita to work in konto re. Grandmother used to fry pancakes, divorced milk, and as they every day. We've recovered All the staff of the paragraph was cultured, intelligent people, in the evenings talking about art, theater and music. Together with the Russian children, I went to the Turkmen school. Part of the lessons were in Russian and the other in the Turkmen language. The kids at school we, Russian, have ignored.  After a short time, all the students were sent to the farm linen wheat. Brought us to the open field, the old railway car with cracks in the walls served as our home. Along the walls narrow as the bunk boards, they are straw. We slept under one blanket. A wooden trough was used for the morning washing. In the evening after work we washed in a small river. The toilet was not. Just ran into the field. Instead of paper, they gave the old Newspapers. On the fire was a large cauldron, there was boiled mutton with wheat. They fed us three times a day, gave us milk. The food was delicious, but all suffered terrible constipation. The fat rough woman, our foreman, came on a cart a little light in the morning. We had to weed the wheat. It means pulling out the weeds. She explained it to us and left. We seemed to understand, but after a while the wheat and the weeds looked the same. Most of the children evacuated from the cities, didn't know the difference between the wheat and the weeds. An angry woman was shouting at us and swearing rude words. The next day, the Turkmen boy and I were sent to bring a barrel of water from the well. Our boss showed how to pull the reins and shouting: "Cob, Coba". From the mountain the bulls were going well. Half a day we pulled full buckets of water from the well and filling the huge barrel. The bulls kicked his feet and waved their tails to keep off flies. When the barrel was full, we sat on the cart, took the reins in hand and began to shout: "Cob, Coba". But the bulls didn't move. After a long attempt, my partner went to our work camp to call for help. Already the sun was setting on the horizon when we arrived at the camp.
After a while, I caught a cold and bossy two days left me lying in the car. I felt really bad. Two days later I was taken on a cart to the farm. The doctor diagnosed pneumonia. I was put on a cart with a straw, covered with a gray blanket, and one girl accompanied me to the plague point. This disease has saved both of us. The Germans were advancing, and all the kids on the farm were cut off from families. Grandma and the doctor cured me. Director of the item the mother was told that all evacuated and advised us to stay: "Turkmens cut out all the Russian". Someone, from mercy of, on a cart, took us back in Grateful. Well, here we come as kings, bringing two bags of white flour, vegetable oil and a bag of sugar. Our hostess met us with open arms. Life went on old, day we sat in the yard, where not was nor grass, nor trees. Small canopy give shade about a year old stove, where my grandmother and hostess bake cakes and potatoes. And at night we caught fleas that cheeky bit.
Dad's arrival was unexpected again. It calculated that the Germans do not go, run and capture Russia. Dad asked for permission to visit the family. He was released. Two weeks after dad's arrival, the Germans drove into Blagodarnoye with open tanks. There was no shooting. The Russian army retreated quickly and the Germans freely occupied our land. The Russian propaganda showed us Germans freaks, monsters with horns. Then young, beautiful, all as on selection. Clean uniforms; two tanks stopped in front of our home. Immediately the soldiers bathed, shaved, exposing your slender, healthy body. The German army settled in the best houses. Tanks and trucks drove back and forth, kicking up dust on the not paved road. The summer was dry and hot. It was a relief that the Germans had no time to pay attention to the population. Sold in the market is still on the Russian money, but mostly changed things on products. Dad went to explore what was going on. He knew German well and could hear a lot.  Dad didn't let us leave the yard. The future in the Grateful was not expected. Dad met a doctor evacuated from Stavropol. She gave us the address of an elderly, lonely lady in Stavropol. There was a man with a cart who agreed to bring us to Stavropol for vodka.  Put things in the cart, a grandmother sat down on the knots in the straw still lay, and a pig this guy. We walked behind the cart. The hill cart I had to push. From the hill, one by one, we rested, sitting off the edge of the cart. We finally reached Stavropol.


Stavropol outskirts is very modest, but in the center of a wide alley with fluffy trees on both sides. The streets are clean and almost no traces of war. The house where she lived, our new hostess, was a modest, but very cozy and clean. Lace curtains on the Windows, tablecloth on the table and an old samovar in the middle, mats on the floor. Seeing this old woman, I was scared. Her pale face was almost transparent, but is deeply sunken eyes smiled pleasantly.  Pale skin covered her thin arms. She was nice, but very sick.






Often she was bleeding from the nose, and it was hard to stop. We were welcome guests as we had flour and sugar. But, gradually, our provisions were exhausted. Money and an extra $ things on sale not was. My mother insisted that my father, knowing German, found a job with the Germans. Dad was sure that the Germans throwing their forces in Russia, could not refrain, but if the Russians come back, they all who worked with the Germans, shot, as it was in Rostov. Grandmother and mother — masters of stove again. On the market bought flour, butter, eggs, sugar and made a great "Napoleon." The Pope wrote in German: "All made from real food, not "ersatz". The price was written in Deutsche mark. Rita and I carried a sheet of cake on the street, where German trucks with soldiers constantly passed. In a couple of minutes all our goods were bought out and all paid. After that, our cake shop has earned at full speed. Grandma was baking a variety of cakes. Rita and I only had time to carry the goods for sale. Dad could not be around us as Russian police suspiciously looked at our business. And some German soldiers, knowing that sometimes took the cake and did not pay. Life has become prosperous. Rita and I bought a pair of shoes at the Bazaar. And all the updated hand-me-downs. Life could be great, but the Russian police started asking us for permission to sell. Dad didn't know whether it is possible to officially obtain permission, and to give them a bribe in Russia has always relied – was afraid.  Our office is now closed. Again, the teeth on the shelf. It is a time of famine for us. The hostess through a friend found us a job to dig up potatoes from the vegetable gardens on the outskirts of the city, put in bags and a wheelbarrow to deliver the harvest to the owners. Five bags to the owners, one bag to us. Dad and mom dug potatoes, Rita and I picked it out of the ground and wore buckets full of bags. By nightfall, dad and mom rolled the wheelbarrow in front, and Rita and I pushed her from behind. The terrain was hilly, everyone was exhausted. Those gardens were guarded by an old man. In the middle of the day he kindled a fire in the cast iron cooked the potatoes all for dinner. Sometimes he asked me to make mashed potatoes. He had wooden, painted spoons. One day, pressing potatoes, I broke a spoon. The old man very much shouted at me, I burst into tears, but we had nothing to pay for a spoon. Having calmed down, he forgave me with the agreement that I would invite him to my wedding.
Autumn came, there was no way out, dad went to work for the Germans — in the warehouse to ship things and products to the car. And since the Pope spoke and wrote in German, he was given the news accounts the book – how many items were received, how many were sent. Dad paid for the products. The first time my dad brought half the sheep. Fried whole and then bite ate it all. It was a real feast. This warehouse ,apparently, was still Russian. On many shelves there were glasses for kerosene lamps. The head of the warehouse were old, dear Herr of Surich. Dad asked him what they would do with these glasses. "Want, take, how many you need to. But don't tell anyone where you got them from." Peasants and other people very much needed these glasses as the lamp without glass dug and filled the room with smoke and shone a little. Now there is a problem how to sell these glasses? I'm the youngest, no one will suspect. My dad taught me. In the basket I had two glasses covered with a cloth. Farmers with carts stood at the edge of the Bazaar and sold wheat, oats, pigs, chickens, chickens and more. The Russian police at Germans had to be afraid, many of them wanted to be served and could arrest for trifle of innocent Russian people, and then understand. I carefully examined that there were no police or soldiers, asked farmers whether they need glass, we quickly exchanged goods and money, and I disappeared imperceptibly in the crowd. Glasses sell was very easy, but dangerous. I've always been cowardly going to the market. Dad became very friendly with Mr. Shoreham. He told him that our family comes from French ancestors de fontanov. He was born in Arkhangelsk, where there were French, German, Dutch and Swedish colonies, formed, arrived from Europe at the invitation of Tsar Peter the great immigrants, for the construction of the Navy. Each colony had its own school and Church. Parents dads, wealthy people, took shipping and trade with England forest. Dad went to a German school. He later graduated from the Lyceum in Moscow. During the revolution, many of his relatives went to England, having a Bank office there. Dad at this time in the Moscow hospital had treatment for his back. Dad was married to a girl from the German quarter, aunt Lune (*Lucia R. the PEC). They had two daughters, Eric and ASTA. Aunt Luna died in childbirth asty.  Wife's family took care of these girls.







After the revolution, my father married my mother, Galina Sokolina. When I was two, dad's name was on the expulsion list, like an alien and a bourgeois. On the advice of friends, my parents took the divorce in Archangel went South to Rostov-on-don, married again, dad took my mother's Russian name and the rest of my life in the Soviet Union trembled, suddenly NKVD dig and arrest him. Herr of Surih helped my dad restore his maiden surname des Fontaines. My mother was previously married to George PEC, he was from the German settlement. They had a daughter Margaret.  The mother went with her first husband, and when she married dad, Rita has always lived with us.
I was very glad that he did not know all the details of my father's and my mother's life. As a patriot, I would sell dad as an enemy of the Motherland. Propaganda in schools and around was full of examples of exposure and destruction of "enemies of the people". Before the New Year Herr of Surih arranged us documents to travel to Rostov.


The winter of 1942 was severe. The snow was falling, it seemed, endlessly. The German army retreated. We were very happy that we received documents for return travel to the city of Rostov from Stavropol.  After short collecting our family went to the station where semi-legally sheltered in the open car, in the train going to Rostov. Ahead of the train were passenger cars, which housed the German military, and behind our open car — platforms, loaded trucks. Having got accustomed to each other, and having covered with blankets, we sat in a corner of the car, hoping to arrive quickly to the hometown and not to freeze on the road. The train sped without stopping, we were shaking from side to side and it helped a little warm. The wind mercilessly pierced to the bone. Huge flakes of snow evenly covered us, a bunch of human bodies, giving, as a sculptor, the form of a group composition. Can't remember how long we drove, but suddenly the wheels began to change its rhythm, and the train stopped at some station. All was quiet. It was so quiet that we were afraid to say the word.  Because of the blankets you could see how gracefully snowflakes fall to the ground, creating a miniature mountain peaks, and the moonlight breaks through the clouds, gave them a silvery sheen. Suddenly he heard voices of Germans. The doors of the wagons were opened and closed. Dad heard from the conversations of the Germans that the train arrived in Novocherkassk and will go no further until morning. Holy Moses!  So it is close to Rostov, but we have to sit until morning in the cold — a certain death. Grandma whispers began to read prayers. We're quiet.  The doors of the cars stopped to clap, apparently, the military decided to sit in the warm. Very young soldiers, of sixteen, guarding our train, frantically holding his rifle and nervously looked around, peering into the dark night. He is a liability Oh-injuring our train, steadily stepping into the large warm German boots: boom-boom-boom! Suddenly, noticing the movement, he ran to us, took off the blanket and shouted: "Raus, raus".  Dad then explained to him that we have documents and we were going to Rostov, and in the passenger cars there was no room. The voice of the soldier is quiet and he explained that in one of the trucks there is a small stove and we can take turns for 20-30 minutes to run there and warm up. But if any of the bosses catch us, he doesn't know anything.  This little soldier has subjected himself to the punishment, allowing us in turn to crawl through the walls of the car and bask near the stove, to save our lives. "In every nation there are good, kind people"- I thought, looking at the dying embers in the stove.
















In the morning the train started, and we soon arrived in Rostov. Shivering, exhausted, but alive we got to aunt Tanya on Malosedobnuyu.  Her house was not destroyed when they took the front. The meeting was joyful. All cried and laughed at me. I hardly waited for the next morning to go to Tkachevsky lane and to see the house, friends of the childhood and to remember our wonderful spokoy-NY life before the war. The hour came when I was Malsagova the street, went around and nail plant, speeding up the steps more and more.
I've heard the sounds of familiar voices, laughter and screams, rolling around on the sled. I ran as hard in the direction of the alley. Gasping from the cold air, continuing to hear the cries of voices, I ran closer and closer, if only to run to the alley where I see all my friends. Turning for a corner, I'm numb.  His feet stayed rooted to the spot. Dizzy, and quickly beating heart was still torn from his chest. The noise of happy laughter, the screams, everything was quiet.  The alley was empty. Absolute silence. Snow drifts, untouched lay on the edges of the alley. And only old traces of the pedestrian wound, like a path in the distance. My knees buckled, I helplessly fell to the ground and wept bitterly. After some time I got up, as sleepy, and went along the path. To the right is a gray collapsed fence, to the left is a high stone wall. Here's our half-open gate, slanting wicket, wobbling from the slightest breeze. The green shutters of our house are clogged with planks. In the yard shows that all the houses long abandoned by residents. The house that served us as a warm, cozy nest was empty, without an entrance door. For the remainder of the sex boards was snow. Inside it was dark and scary. The trench which dug out in a garden for protection of residents from air raids, was still intact. All the other houses seemed to barely survive the collapse. There were no traces of life. The deadly silence was broken only occasionally by the creak of the boards or barely hanging doors. Here I understood, that warm, a cosy nest, where we grew light-hearted happiest lives, ended its existence. Don't remember how I got to the house of aunt Tanya. And there was talk about the need to move further West, as life in Rostov was impossible.  Losing my friends, I was fine with wherever we went. Departure from his native city and began our long, hard journey.


We came to Taganrog. There lived my mother's friend aunt SIMA. Her husband was arrested in ' 37. Their daughter Inna was my friend. Before the war, they often came to Rostov to visit relatives and stayed with us. In Taganrog they had a very cozy little house. All were glad again to see in such turbulent times. Aunt SIMA did not understand why our family moved from Rostov: "you have an apartment there with furniture, things all survived, and there is no way to live."

Mom and dad explained to her that Rostov when the last time was in German hands, one woman with a family illegally moved into our apartment. Seeing us coming and sheltering at aunt Tanya's, she told her that if the Falcons wanted to take their apartment back, she would tell the Germans that the falcons were guerrillas. There was no way. Communists will come and arrest the Pope, as he worked for the Germans, although it was only a few months. Staying in Rostov is a big threat. During the war, Communists and Germans did not understand the guilt of people. Winter was terrible, aunt Shima - no coal or firewood. In fur coats went to sleep on the floor and warmed each other.  Dad, Rita and I went to the railway station to collect a live coal falling from the engine. Hundreds of people, armed with a bucket, a poker and a small spatula, collected this coal. We had to deftly jump between the rails slowly when passing a locomotive hitched to the wagons or he just maneuvered. Frozen, hungry, by the evening we sometimes brought a half-square of coal. One day a little boy steam locomotive stabbed to death. He was pulled out, and the locomotive didn't even stop. By law, people weren't supposed to be there. We watched with horror and wanted to know whose child it was. Dad with two men took him to the Russian police.  This episode stopped our search for coal. We ate only the cake. The cake (cake) is when sunflower seeds in the form of a round wheel were pressed for vegetable oil at the oil factory, the husks and a few seeds remained. It was dried and fed to pigs, but during the war we sucked and gnawed on this cake, sharp skins stuck in the throat, but some seeds quenched hunger.








The Germans were retreating. In Taganrog came aunt Lala, uncle Sergei and their son Misha Hazizova, long time friends of mom and dad. Even before the war, on holidays, all often intended in our a small house on Tkachevsky lane 77. Aunt Tanya and aunt Lyalya played the piano, mom and dad sang arias from operas and operettas. Grandmother gladly listened to these musical evenings and remembered how her husband, doctor George Yakovlevich, sang favorite romances to her accompaniment on the piano. Rita and I fell asleep to the wonderful sounds of music in the next room. Sometimes I woke up from a heavy noise and saw clouds of cigarette smoke through the curtain. It seemed that the music and the smoke merged mutually in an interesting pattern. At that time all smoked cigarettes, and in severe winter even Windows didn't open.
In Taganrog there were rumors that Ukraine is not as hungry as here. Ukraine has always been a prosperous part of the USSR, black earth gave a plentiful harvest of wheat, oats, vegetables and fruits. Collective farmers lived in wooden houses or clay huts with thatched roofs and clay floors. The garden around the house supplied the family, and the surplus was sold at the Bazaar. Some had a cow, but more often goats that were not considered bourgeois. Also have all were chickens, ducks, geese and pigs.


When it got warmer, our family and Hazizova went to the station. Everyone has a knot with change of linen and a cake for food. Dad, mom and grandmother were carrying a suitcase. There was a lot of people at the station. As ants, all somewhere hurried, pushed, swore, called the lost children. Noise, noise, it was scary and it is unclear what is happening. Passenger trains were only for Germans, and maybe with special permits, for some Russians. Usually freight cars are closed, but if the cars are open, the population attacked them. The train approached-three or four cars empty. The people rushed into the cars, shouting and crush even more intensified. Dad somehow shoved my suitcase. I couldn't get through to them. Dad squeezed me into the vestibule of this car, and he caught the handle of another and hung on the step. In the same carriage were mother, Rita, and Hazizova. A freight train was slow, but standing near the open door with power people, I was horrified by holding the iron stick at the wall. With each rolling of the car fear that I will fall out of the car, covered me. Gradually, the movement of the train was settled people. The elderly could sit on the floor, bending his knees under him. Echoing, people found each other, and I squeezed to grandmother. Tired all was quiet.
After a very long time the train stopped in a field. All rushed to go to the bathroom in all directions, some under small bushes or simply in the field. Me and my grandma, afraid to run away from the train, sat near the wheel, it served as a fence from the other side. Grandmother grapple-grapple took refuge back. Dad came running to check on us. The sound of the whistle the train started. Flashed fields, warped by the war. Many villages have been destroyed or burned down. Occasionally, resist the battles of the Lodge, showed signs of life. The smoke from the chimneys of the snake penetrated the cool air. The paths of the forest people carried knots of brushwood, firewood. Coming from nodes or wheelbarrows enlivened the road. At stations women sold seeds, pellets made of corn flour and a baked potato. Our train relentlessly continued on his way.











The train stopped at the station Vinnitsa (Ukraine). Speakers loudly in Ukrainian and German called all evacuated to school, near the station, and get there a warm soup and sandwiches. Everyone was a little suspicious the warm welcome, but there was no way, exhausted, hungry, cold, all went to school. A huge school in several floors. In the classroom stood a clean bed with blankets. The hall has long tables and chairs. The smell of warm soup spread across the building. All divided-men to the right, women to the left. Announced: "everyone should undress, clothes will be disinfected from lice, people should bathe under the shower, in the hair will inject disinfection. When we stood naked, as a herd, have many has flown terrible thought (were rumors, that Germans smothered people in gas furnaces). There was absolute silence, people were afraid to say the word. Our entire life has to flash before my eyes. The door opened, a fat woman shouted: "the Next twenty people in shower". The soul is not closed, the water flowed without interruption, drops gently poured on naked bodies.  We dried them on a towel and sat naked and silently waited for something. We seemed to sit forever. "Next," another voice shouted. To our surprise, three women brought a huge basket of our things.  "Take apart your clothes," said one of them. Everything slowly began sorting clothes. Relieved now that the danger has passed, and people began to talk animatedly. The fur on the coats from the couple cringed, but was clean. In the morning all the family joined together and happily enjoyed the warm soup and bread. Clean, well-fed all collapsed on the bed and fell fast asleep. The school bell woke us this morning. Delicious soup and bread were for Breakfast. The speaker announced:"at ten o'clock in the morning the German representatives will come and will keep the speech". The Pope went to the square in the back, near the wooden fence, stood the restrooms. When people gathered in the square, dad put us, the kids (Rita, Misha and me), near the restrooms. At exactly ten o'clock three Germans in a yellow uniform addressed the crowd through a pipe. The interpreter spoke without a trumpet, and he could not be heard. Suddenly dad whispered to us: "Go for the bathroom, climb over the fence and run away." How much power fear gives.  We quickly crawled over the fence. I grabbed for Rita and grapple-grapple was in time for it to flee, far eyes are looking. Misha ran in the other direction. Breath bated in his chest from fear. Gradually, from impotence we ran, walked, looking, do not run if we were the Germans in the yellow uniform or the Ukrainian police. We wandered around the winery. Twilight began to cover the city. With tears we sat on the sidewalk, not knowing what to do, where to go. Mom and dad found us. They explained to us that the Germans recorded young people to go to Germany to work. But we need to find a shelter first, and then take such a serious step.  Hazizova found Mike. Grandma stayed at school. Later that evening daddy and uncle Sergei went to school, took the stuff and grandma met us at the assigned place.
Vinnitsa is a small town, adults are pretty easy to navigate, we, frightened, fled, not knowing where, and it seemed to us that the city is endless. The war spared the city, the center almost intact. On the outskirts of the surviving hut, and fences, with hanging clay pots, decorated and gave Ukrainian flavor. The impression is that he get into the theatre scene "May night". The road was empty, the sound of our steps was heard in space. The idea that we are all happily together. Lila's soul. The full moon was covered by bumps on the road, and white cottages could be clearly seen against the blue sky. To the left of the fence was visible the silhouette of a man. We walked in silence, trying to pretend that do not notice it. Suddenly there was a voice: "you run from the Germans, do not be afraid, I can shelter you." We've stayed in. Dad and uncle Sergei walked over to the man. He stood in a fur coat and fur hat, was a good drunk, language was braided. "I have a basement, I can hide you all." We had to decide.  We had nowhere to go in the middle of the night.  A simple, illiterate Ukrainian old man with a good heart saved us this night. The old man's hut looked more like a dugout. Small low room. Light streamed in through two tiny Windows. Russian stove, where he cooked and slept, without removing his body. A small homemade table, with cross legs on the sides, on the table oil smoker, next to the bench. On the floor there is a wooden lid in the cellar. He opened the lid of the wooden, creaky stairs led down. A cellar dug under the hut. On the walls of the wooden support, so that the ground does not fall. The old man with the cheerful conversations in Ukrainian, in Russian amused us. He put a smokescreen on the box. In one corner of the mountain taverns (pumpkin) and sugar beet. I have never seen such a huge size of wild boars. Bow, woven tassels, hanging on the wall. Wide shelf, cut down in the ground, covered with boards. It lay skins of goats or of sheep, it was our bed. "Be at home, warm in winter and cool in summer."  He gave us some hot soup, and he gave the men a Cup of moonshine. After a few days dad and uncle Sergei went to look for work and housing. The owner showed sympathy for my mother. Always drunk, he was rough said: "Galina Georgievna, let's go soup". My grandmother accompanied my mother during cooking. My grandmother threw away a copper basin, it was so dirty that the copper was not visible. Once a day we brought water from the well for cooking soup, washing cups and washing. The first time in my life I ate from wooden painted cups. The soup was thick and tasty, made of wild boars and onions. Sweet baked sugar beet in the coals of the stove. From the dugout we did not go out, watched as our cheerful old man drove moonshine from sugar beet. Grandmother was surprised, as he still not'm blind from such Burda brown color of. It was good, but only in bearskins on which we slept was full of a lot of lice. Grandma, being a medical professional, I was afraid that we might catch fever. We caught and killed lice, and even contest to see who catches more. The long days passed slowly. Uncertainty about dad and uncle Serezha began to worry. Three weeks passed waiting for them. Suddenly, they both came in cheerful and good-looking. They found a job in Gnivan.


The city is a small place, not very far from Vinnitsa. The sugar factory is the main industry in the area.





The surrounding fields are planted with sugar beet. At the beginning of the war, the Germans seized Ukraine almost without a fight. Gnivan's factory and houses were not damaged. Dad and uncle-he's already been working for a week there. Dragged bags of beet from field to factory. Immediately paid them (I don't remember what money). We thanked our Savior, paid him (money will always come in handy), and set off. Quickly arrived in a passenger train to Gnivan (Ukraine allowed citizens to travel in passenger cars). From the factory we were given a wonderful, wooden house. Wide entrance hall, dining room, several bedrooms. Large Windows in all main rooms and in the hallway and the pantry Windows, hand-carved, like a mosaic of glass. The house was empty, probably the owners evacuated, and the residents dragged the furniture. I do not remember, but probably at the Bazaar, bought a table, beds, chairs, and linens. Sleep in one room Hazizova, second, little, mom and dad, and the third grandmother, Rita and me.






Life was Royal. You can buy a variety of products at the Bazaar. Most importantly, I remember buying huge green apples, grandmother baked them with sugar and poured sour cream.  Oh, that was delicious. Mom met one cultural Panna (Polish origin). She had a sewing machine, and my mother sewed her dresses, and, as payment for work she was allowed to sew us some clothes. On Bazaar bought all well-worn, but still good overcoat. Grandma planted a little vegetable garden. Bought small ducklings and chickens. When the ducklings grew, Rita and I went to the river to collect snails for geese. The snails attach themselves to the underside of stones, knives we tore them. One bucket a day. At home, sitting on a bench, knife opened snails and ducks impatiently snatched them out of our hands. Very quickly our ducks have grown fat.

The river is not wide, surrounded by huge stones. Through the clear water at the bottom could see the polished stones and seaweed. Tiny fish flocks rushed in different directions. The breeze gently rippled small waves. We climbed on the rocks and basked in the sun. All quietly, quietly, as if there is no war. Why do countries fight each other and innocent people suffer in a bloody meat grinder?
The life flowed perfectly. Only sometimes trains with German soldiers, tanks and trucks reminded that the war continues. But suddenly, a dark cloud covered our family. Rita walked through the market.  The German police surrounded the 6azar and checked the documents.
9. 6.1943 G. Rita was one of hundreds of young people, whom the Germans forcibly taken away in hard labor to Germany. Dad went to the commandant's office to ask for her release, but the answer was no. The whole family tried to cheer up Rita, that the Germans were cultured nation and the lives will probably be good. Seeing Rita to the station, we, the only ones, brought a bouquet of flowers.














Tragic scene at the train station stood in my eyes. Mother was sobbing, the youth cried, the last embrace, it was difficult to divide, everyone wanted to hug a dear person, not knowing their fate. The train moved on, through the mist of tears it was impossible to distinguish faces departing. Full window crying faces and loud sobs began to fade away. At home, my grandmother read prayers so that God would preserve Rita. Here I began to pray and believe in God.  In the Soviet Union, parents could not be presented with religion at home under threat of arrest, and children were told that religion was an opium for the people. Our prosperous life continued.
We even once went to Vinnitsa to listen to the Opera "Eugene Onegin". To our disappointment, sang in the Ukrainian language.



Fine Pushkin's poetry sounded like a comic parody, but strong, well-trained voices of singers, completely filled all theater and our souls.
Carrying heavy bags, the unbearable pain of my father's back increased. In the evenings his grandmother massaged his back and applied warm compresses.  Over time, echelons with wounded German soldiers multiplied at the station, and tanks and trucks with the military moved intensively to the East. The police began to surround groups of young people, to check passersby on the street more often. Dad advised me to leave the house less often, he changed the date of my birth in his passport and my pass from 1928 to 1930. He so cleverly and to be honest this made, that cannot be was find fault. The difference these two years saved me from sending in Germany, as Rita. After a short period of time, the sugar factory workers announced that the factory and all the machines will be taken to Germany. I once also fell into the environment of the police, but since the sugar factory was evacuated to Germany, I was allowed to stay with my family. And we were hoping to meet Rita in Germany. At this time we already had a card from Rita from the city of Linz.
Hazizova decided to stay in Gnivan. Later Misha, too, rounded up and sent North Germany. Factory Director was allowed to take an unlimited amount of Luggage (but not furniture) we have provided the commodity this is of straw on the floor, which fit our family, Veronica, an older lady with mom, the family of a shoemaker uncle Fedya, his wife, grandma and their two girls, Lily and Julia. Mattresses put on straw, and they are very useful to us in Germany. This trip military times were with the amenities. The shoemaker is a very enterprising person. He and his father took out a stove, held a pipe in the roof of the car, beat the floor around the stove with iron, bought coal and firewood. The ducks and the vegetable garden left by Hazizova. We bought salted bacon, sausages, flour, sugar, a large gallon of vegetable oil, cereals, potatoes and much more. Shoemaker also had a few large cases crafted of fine leather and tools for making shoes and boots. Mom bought a sewing machine. This all then helped our initial life in Germany. The shoemaker persuaded my father to ask the Director to allow me to take the piano. The piano rolled, tied with ropes to the wall of the car and everything settled down. Farewell to aunt Lala, uncle Seryozha and Misha was serious. Our fate is unknown, it is not easy to part with relatives in turbulent times. Farewell we looked at the outgoing landscape of Ukraine. Black earth-fields, white cottages with thatched roofs, fences with hanging cast iron. My heart sank thinking that 6ольше will not see the Ukraine and our Russian homeland.


Poland, closer to Germany, had a good view, but, having moved to Germany, we were stunned. Neat, clean household yards flashed as in the picture. Not littered with broken carts and wheels, were not somehow sheds. Behind the cities are designed small plots of vegetable gardens with neat vegetable beds, small paths between them to make it easier to handle. Neatly built shed, with Windows for tools, several folding chairs, a table where you can relax and eat after work.
Our train slowly drove up to the sugar factory of the town of Brig near Breslau, on the Oder river. The factory itself is well equipped, I do not know why was taken from Ukraine cars. Maybe like a war trophy. Two days we continued to live in the car. Then we were placed to live temporarily in a bunker under the factory. Immaculately clean, two-storey bunks, new mattresses, white sheets and pillowcases on pillows, warm blankets. A long table with benches. The electric light was not switched off at night. Walls and floor of restrooms and showers are covered with tiles. Everything glittered.  Sorry to leave the comfortable car. But the thought that we could bathe under a hot shower, even twice a day, was a huge bait. The superiors locked up our car and gave us the keys. They asked not to drag all things into the bunker:"No one will take your things." We did not know that in those days in Germany people lived well-off and honestly. The cobbler was worried about the bags with the skin, its a jewel. Gradually we moved more valuable things to the bunker. For the workers of the sugar factory built a special camp. Barracks, with two-story planks on the sides of the walls, in the middle of a long wooden table and long two benches on the sides. At the entrance, an iron stove. Small Windows, so it was almost always dark. A wire fence and a large gate surrounded the camp. The camp was not ready for our arrival, so we were temporarily placed in the bunker. Unfortunately we soon moved to the barracks. The shoemaker had all the barracks for his family. He made new shoes, the owner of the factory Neugebauer and two Directors. Unnecessary bench uncle Fedya pushed to the wall and made a closet with curtains. Near the window — a great place for the Studio, where he and his wife sewed shoes. Piano staged a in the other parts of barracks, about the table, and separated sleeping place.
Our family, Veronika and her mother and one young polka and her daughter lived together in another barrack. We've changed the look of the barracks, too. In a separate barracks were restrooms, showers and washbasins. After the arrangement of men and women went to work in the factory. Men do the heavy work, and women sewed the bags for sugar. Since only one Pope spoke German well, he took the place of translator and, with other Germans, put in the night shift to monitor the cooking of sugar, it was a very important job. The shoemaker uncle Fedya and his wife did not work at factory, they supplied the chief with handmade footwear (at that time Germans all had on cards and opportunity to get footwear free of charge or for pennies was happiness).  There was no military guard in this camp. The factory Director Mr. Shepherd, in yellow uniform, and Mr. Maton, in a gray uniform (he was a pilot and was recovering from wounds), and looked out over the camp. At the factory we were able to walk freely. To reach the city from the camp could only be in the resurrection, and then all had to bear on his chest the sign "OST", just as the Jews your "Mogendovidom". Without this we were not allowed to leave the camp, even at work. From factory kitchen brought us soup, a portion of bread and margarine; food stocks that we brought from Ukraine, also helped us. The owner of the factory was a kind person and allocated one kilogram of sugar and one kilogram of malaria per person per week.  In night shift workers began to throw small bags of sugar behind a fence, women selected them, and cooking of moonshine began. Thanks to primitive methods of distillation, moonshine in camp 6yl poor quality. Thank God, no one was poisoned. During the war, the schnapps was impossible to get in stores.  Once the shoemaker made shoes accountant, Herr Tomstu, he invited him to the fitting room and at dinner (the shoemaker was all), were treated with moonshine. Herr Tomsic liked to drink. Gave him a small bottle and on a path. Dad stayed up all night thinking the police would arrest everyone. And looking forward to come Tomsic live to work. Shining Herr Tomsic shook hands with the Pope, and later, in a corner, asked what kind of drink this. He liked him very much. Dad explained that the drink is made from malaria, and you need a gas stove for better quality. Herr Tomsic talked with Mr. Mathon on new production. Opposite the factory was a two-storey large house. On the first floor lived Herr Maton with his family, and on the second floor of the unfriendly some boss. Upstairs there is a huge attic and small rooms for servants, a small kitchenette with a gas stove and a shower room with a toilet. The rest of the free space — for hanging clothes. This place was given to our family, I don't know, because there's a gas stove and you can drive moonshine, or just a coincidence. I brought soup from the factory, as well as bread, sugar and malaria. The factory dad got old alcoholometer. Got pots, where males and some seasonings wandered, but no pipes.  These thin tubes are twisted by a snake, they are put in cold water when alcohol liquid runs, and on the other hand the precious moonshine drips. The shoemaker was a friend who is more camp, not far from the Brig, had such a pipe. Since I did not work, there was a young woman and already spoke a little German, and we lived outside the camp, I was obliged to go by train a couple of kilometers from the camp in the evening, spend the night with friends and the next day to bring the pipes to the Brig, where dad's brazhka was preparing. Dad drove it for the first time, and then distilled it into pure alcohol, which was diluted with water to a degree of vodka or schnapps. After distillation, I went back to the camp to give the pipe. Every few weeks, I was on my way. The pipes were well wrapped in soft rags to the iron sound did not pay attention to the passengers on the train. The train came it had already got dark, the passengers went to the villages near the station, and I had to walk two kilometers to the camp. I walked along the rammed road, on one side — the railway, on the other — the snow spread like a white carpet, to the gloomy forest. Branch of hops was seriously sagging from the weight of snow. Bunnies occasionally ran between the trees, leaving footprints in the snow. The lights of the camp flickered like distant stars. And so full of fear, cold from chilly wind with a heavy bag, I was encouraging myself that I'm at home in Russia.
Herr Shepherd once razgovarivala with dad — it was a pity that I can not go to school, not being German. He invited me to his house a few days a week to look after the children, five-year Gisela and three-year Otto, and learn German. His wife was always at home, so I didn't have to do any homework. Just play with the kids, feed them and drive them to the Park for a walk. Herr Shepherd knew our family from Ukraine. He trusted me, knew I wouldn't do any harm to the kids. His wife (as she later told us) was afraid that I might be poisoned, or hurt children. Very often, playing with children, I saw through the glass door a figure as the vision slowly passing into the other room. When I was feeding the kids, she was sitting across the street watching. When the kids were asleep, she gave me darn socks and very disappointed that my darning was not of high quality. In Rostov I went to school, studied ballet and the pioneer group, and darned linen grandma.  When I was out with the kids, Otto, the boy was always there, and Gisela would run away from me and scream, "tell me right in German, then I'll come."  From fear to lose her, I grabbed Otto by the hand and we fled from him, not yet caught up with the girl. These walks didn't give me pleasure. But being in this family for a long time helped me to listen to a good German speech. Herr Shepherd again called the school – whether it is impossible to receive me. Again was a failure. But the headmistress of the school said that I could be shown a few days at school in different classes, so that German children saw what a Russian girl looks like. Very nice teachers, especially one tried to soften my shyness. But I felt like an unseen beast at the show.  I was watched, asked questions about life and schools in Russia, but not knowing German well, I did not understand them and could not explain much. I was very ashamed to stand in class like an image. The role of the governess was soon over, and I had a lot of free time. In the spacious attic I remembered ballet exercises. To my amazement, I felt that the joints and muscles of my entire body has hardened and lost its elasticity. But I tried to soften them gradually. Due to space, I even tried to make large jumps, but the pirouettes were bad — the floor was very rough. I didn't even think the noise could disturb the family living under us. But no one complained, and my grandmother forbade me to study, so as not to attract the attention of strangers.



Living in the Brig, dad remembered that one of his sisters, Alice E. des Fontaines with her husband Wilhelm PEC and two daughters traveled from Arkhangelsk to the revolution in London.  And, as if later, her husband opened his business in Hamburg. The Pope wrote to the Red Cross in Germany a letter with a request to find this family. It's been a long time, we've lost hope. Suddenly came a letter from her aunt Alice that they live in Hamburg. Her husband died of an accident a long time ago, and she stayed with her two daughters Eleonora and Renata. Renata is the son of Heino. They live with an aunt Bertha (their sister from the first marriage of their father) with his daughter Helga and her granddaughter Carmen. Aunt Berta before the revolution left Arkhangelsk for Estonia in his estate. During the war they came to Hamburg to aunt Alice.










We could not believe such happiness - there were dad's relatives! Soon, at Easter, 1944, they arrived in Brig to visit us. After thirty years of separation, the meeting was very stormy. All wept with joy, hugging each other to feel that it wasn't a dream. After a week our dear guests left.  Mother told them about the tragedy with Rita, about how she got to Germany. Renata took the address and long fussed about the release of Rita. The problem was Rita was working at a military plant, but Renata went to the camp where Rita was and got her release. Finally, in the fall of 1944 our entire family came together. It is God's Power and destiny that brought us happiness. Rita began working at our factory, operated a huge crane in the shop. It Was Christmas Eve. Snow covered the streets and roofs of houses. 24 December we went to the Church nearby. A wonderful Service filled a large room, although I did not understand the pastor. A huge tree, decorated with silver pendants and balls, stood at the altar. The members of the parish prayed aloud, I prayed quietly in my heart, and it seemed to me that the prayers of all and my humble prayer came to God in this wonderful evening. We thanked God that we are all together again. Going home, I saw the Christmas trees glow in the Windows of the houses. In our wretched area was also a Christmas tree, but without candles and Christmas toys. But the smell of pine needles spread throughout the room.
We received a letter from Gazizovich — Misha was taken to Germany and the family decided to go along with it. They came to the bower in Schleswig – Goldstein. Misha protested against hard physical work and hated Germans. It was difficult for him to get used to working life, so he was spoiled in Russia, where uncle Serezha was in charge of a large warehouse, and they only lacked bird's milk at home.  Renata procured permission to me and my mother to visit Gazizovich. Happily, we met with dear friends. Stories about life since we broke up, lasted until morning. The owners released Gazizovich three days off work, so we spent more time together. The owner showed us how the machines milk cows in large pools splashed milk for cheese. He scooped me a liter of cream and gave me a drink. With great pleasure I drank this delicious beverage, but to master to the end could not. The dinner was delicious. Soup, fried meat with vegetables, and for dessert – a huge, high, number three cake, each layer laid tolstosumy cream, strawberry is a close one to other berries on the whole layer, and the top is the same. A good hostess, cut off huge chunks of this divine cake and put on a plate in front of each. After a wonderful, hearty dinner that I barely could eat cake, but I was afraid to move away from the table, suddenly the cake will disappear. The hostess saw my dilemma and said to me,"Tamara, I'll put your cake in the fridge and later tonight, whenever you want, I'll finish it for you."  And so, in the evening I tasted this air, delicious cake and returning home, I told everyone about this extraordinary cake.


Increasingly were heard explosions of shells across the river Oder. In the silence of the night a distinct rumble of movement of tanks. Families of chiefs from the first and second floor were evacuated. Herr Mathon shared with the Pope the news that things on the front are not good. Dad asked Maton to arrange for us and the family of the shoemaker permission from the police to travel to Hamburg. Each of us has received such a document. Dad and Herr Mathon broke up like old friends. Mom asked the German women (wife of one worker at the factory), which she has altered dresses, instead of money, a car on four wheels. Again, each of us has prepared a bag with the right clothes.  My grandmother baked bread and dried crackers for the road. The two-storey house was quiet, only our steps broke the silence. The shoemaker and I last went to Bauer's for sausage, bacon and other foods to carry on. We barely got to the place, and saw a lot of refugees on the other side of Oder: Germans, foreigners with knots and suitcases, who on foot, who on the carts — all fled from the front. We quickly received provisions from Bauer and set off on our way back. Suddenly some cart hit me off the bike. I fell on my back, and a hoof of a horse missed my head, she stood up like a dug-in. I only saw the chest of a giant horse, her splayed legs and heard nothing. The shoemaker and some people pulled me out from under the horse and laid me by the road, the shoemaker sat beside me. Thank God, no bones were broken. Gradually we collected our purchases, but I was afraid to ride a bike. We walked across the field to avoid being pushed. The shoemaker cheered me up, "you know, Tamara, horses are animals that will never crush a man." Truth this or not, but me from this conversation was easier. A couple of days I lay in bed, I was shaking from fear. Mom, grandma and dad Packed the car, covered with a tarpaulin of snow and rain, and she stood poised in front. It is good that all residents already left. The family of a shoemaker had a very big car and more loaded. Veronica wanted to join us. Her mother died shortly before the departure of the Brig. I remember that at her funeral (God forgive me) I felt like a fairy tale. The hearse, decorated with horses. The coachman in tails and a top hat. The men carrying the coffin are also in the cylinders. Let Veronika and her mother forgive me, but I felt like in the Opera Eugene Onegin: snow, tail coats, cylinders — everything is so romantic.
Men could not just walk away from the Brig, and was supposed to come to work every morning to sign on. The front was approaching very quickly, at night there were explosions in the distance. In January, poses the bottom of the night, woke us up. All ate, got dressed, sat down "on a path", the grandmother prayed, all crossed and we moved. Dad and shoemaker took us to the outskirts of the city and returned to Brig, promising as soon as possible to quickly catch up with us. The parting was quick, no tears. There was danger from all sides. Wounded Germans were actually not on the machines, and carts. I asked if for them to go, since we don't know which way is better to go from the front, the next day the shoemaker caught up with us on the bike. Dad couldn't leave as the factory continued to work and there would be a panic in the camp and at the exit from camp would put protection…

Like waves in the sea, floated people on the road. In small towns it was impossible to find shelter overnight. The shoemaker offered to go to the Bauers and ask to sleep on straw in the barn or piggery. So we has been going three weeks. In one place at a café were given sandwiches and soup to the refugees of the Germans. I came by to ask for something for us. I go to the queue and see — is my dad. Oh, my God, that's lucky. The second time during the war we were separated and met by chance. Encouraged by dad's sudden appearance, we went faster. Our provisions are exhausted and it is difficult for the hungry to walk. The shoemaker and I went to the Bauers to ask for water and some food. Someone gave us a bite to eat and the others didn't. We did not condemn them– because a lot of hungry people came to them. All provide food and shelter impossible. The shoemaker often jumped into a yard through a fence, twisted the chickens head and hid in his bosom broad his leather jacket. We all departed from the road to the forest or the field, pulled feathers from chickens, cooked them on a fire and ate. Only what man wouldn't hunger. One day, one bawarshi asked us how far to the front (the day we moved away from the front, in a night he caught up with us.) "You probably should run too," we told her. She gave us sausage, bacon, bread and even pies. Allowed to sleep on straw. They, too, have become flock to run away from Russians. And then we got two sledges, as the hike began through the mountains Gebirge Reason.  For a long time and slowly we climbed the hill. Two grandmothers were sitting on the sledge with swollen feet. We dragged the sled with grandma and stuff. The movement was very slow. In the afternoon we barely crawled, and at night found shelter somewhere with a lot of other people. Cold, with wet feet, often hungry, we went to bed. Before going to bed, dad bred alcohol with water and gave everyone a drink as a medicine. Alcohol on the bike he drove out of the Brig. Surprisingly, for all of our wanderings in the mountains, we are not cold, maybe the alcohol helped. Legs fell into the snow trampled by wheels of carts and people. The afternoon sun the snow was melting a little, and at night a mixture of snow and mud froze, and formed a thorny road bumps. One of these days we came to a small village. Dad went to seek asylum, but everything was crowded with refugees Germans and foreigners. The soldier advised to climb higher up the hill to the next village. We went through several villages, and all the time there was a refusal. It was getting dark, and we went up and up. The snow was cold and crunched under my feet. At midnight, exhausted, we reached a large village. Dad and I went into the house. People slept side by side on the floor near his things. Dim light lit them up as if they were corpses.  The burgomaster and the military tried to distribute the German evacuees. The school was also Packed — people sat on the threshold and stairs, were glad that not in the snow. Depraved, we have returned to our group. We came together in a small circle and covered with a blanket, tears rolling down at all, knowing that in the morning we will freeze. As an angel of heaven, a German woman approached us: "Come with me, I will let you spend the night."  She poured warm water into the pelvis (two could wash, and most importantly, warm her legs in turn), gave us a towel. In the kitchen, she fed us soup and put us upstairs in clean beds with down jackets. The family of cobbler she made from his cousin. This woman with two children, who lost her husband on the Russian front, knowing that we are Russian, with a good heart sheltered us, in General, saved our lives.  It could be cruel-at the front Russians killed her husband and left children orphans. So I learned during the war that every nation has good and bad people. No nation wants war, but the rulers do not think about what victims ordinary people will suffer. After resting two days, mentally and physically, thanking our good Savior, we have gone further.  I made it to Konigsberg. The Pope and the shoemaker uncle Fedya decided to see if there is a possibility to go by train. My dad found the stationmaster, talked to Sneem, and left me a small bottle of vodka. At the next meeting the chief of station explained that with evacuated and wounded such chaos that there are no schedules of trains. All paths are blocked. Thanking dad for gift, he said, that if will emerge opportunity, he will help. At this time, the shoemaker went to inquire about food. He met Russian prisoners of war employed on that station. These prisoners manually pushed an empty car on an empty path, lifted sledges and wheelbarrows with things and put us in the car.  They showed dad and the shoemaker where to get straw on the floor. The next day dad and the cobbler disappeared. In the evening they took the stove, pipe and coal — prisoners are helped. Dad bought them vodka.  They were very pleased. How useful a gallon of alcohol!  In the car, it was warm and soft. Dad went to the station Manager and said that we climbed into an empty car, so as not to sleep on the street. Can't he hook this car to the next train. And left him another present. Our nimble men walked along the tracks, where there were cars for different purposes. Found a wagon with a passport to Hamburg. Dad was sure that there were German soldiers who were guarding the station. The shoemaker carefully opened the lock and pulled the Hamburg passport of the car, it was put in our car and calmed down, all proud looking at this official passport in our car. We have the documents in Hamburg and train at Hamburg. Two days later, at night, the steam locomotive knocked our car, German workers attached it. It's quiet. The men came out to see where we were. We were attached to a passenger train with evacuated German women and children, the whole train was on the way back. After some time the train began to transfer from one track to another. Whistle, and we moved. The train went a long time without stopping, the car shook from side to side. It turns out that a freight trains are slower than passenger. At some stations we stayed. The poor German women with small children could not warm the milk in cold cars. We have the same kettle on the stove was boiling all the time.  At the railway stations, the Red Cross cooked hot soup, sandwiches, camping latrines, taps for washing hands for evacuees, and we enjoyed these benefits. Suddenly the train stopped in a field. Boomed the siren. A cloud of bombers was flying in our direction. Everyone's heart stopped. Dad watched the flight and explained that the planes fly high and for a different purpose. A little light. Hundreds of bombers, the sky closed, don't permit the sun's rays. Air was rattling from the drone. Again the train started...Night, arrived at the big station. Dad jumped out to look around. Huge station, Dresden surprised us. All paths are Packed with freight or passenger trains. On the platforms were people hoping to get on a train somewhere.  Several times our echelon was transferred from one way to another. But not allowed to land. One tiny woman came to the Pope and talked — she goes to Hamburg, knows all the German laws and can help us in many ways. Her name was Margaret. On the second day, the speaker announced that our and another train with children and women Dresden does not accept. We moved on.











We probably drove quite far from the city. A siren roared, the train stopped, and all quickly jumped into the ravine. Planes this time, flying low. Having pressed to the earth and to each other, we were afraid to lift heads. The buzz was so strong that the earth trembled. End this was not bamboozel the cloud. Suddenly terrible explosions thundered in the distance. With our heads up, we saw fiery flashes. But the aircraft continued to fly like there's no end. The flames of Dresden was expanding on the horizon. It seemed like the explosions of the volcano covered the entire city. God is in this time saved us again. But thousands of innocent people fell victim to that night.
This war has brought untold suffering to mankind.  It has been a long time since then, but we cannot forget this terrible, brutal bombing of Dresden.
Whistle.  Horror all silently climbed into the wagons and the train started. Dresden burned behind us, the stations and villages once again flashed before our eyes.
One night the train stopped at some station. The soldiers on the platform shouting to everyone: "Raus, Raus". The doors of the wagons opened and shut with noise. Waking up children cried, women in panic loudly shouted. We fell silent in our car and was afraid to come out. The soldiers opened our door and shouted, " Raus, Raus." Margaret came forward and explained that it was our car and we get out of it will not, and will wait for the next train to Hamburg. Soldiers in yellow uniforms ordered us to leave, there will be no trains, communication with the next city is interrupted. Everyone should go to the school hall. Having reached there, we saw that all floor is filled up with people and things. From the kitchen a time worn smell of hot soup. It has encouraged us. The restrooms are full to wash your hands, you have to stand in line. For the first time we saw so clearly that it was time to suffer the Germans, as well as all the other refugees. In the morning began to deliver German women with children in houses of the German inhabitants.  When it was our turn, we were taken to the factory.   They gave us one small, empty room for everyone. It was a military factory under the ground. To work we didn't, but everyone take turns clean the kitchen vegetables. In front of our window there was a huge pit, buried for the winter vegetables: carrots, potatoes, onions and turnips. We dug up vegetables, carried them into the kitchen, passing a few pieces of carrots into our room. When we were given soup and a ration of bread, we ate the onions, and the day was chewing on a raw carrot. Our men went to the station and removed our passport from the car, which still stood in the way. As a precaution.




After a few days of stay in the factory sounded the air RAID siren. We sat in the shelter with kitchen and accounting staff. Bombs exploded almost overhead. Many small houses around it were destroyed. Adults could not understand, why bombed a slight place. Only later we found out-because the factory is underground. The raids became more frequent. Margaret and dad went to ask the station master to send our car to Hamburg. Head through all the documents I could not find the registration of our car. But seeing the chaos coming with the approach of the front, he said, "Take your car, I did not see it and do not want to see." For safety our car was attached in the middle of the freight train. Again passport on carriage and our documents in the hands of. At many stations we saw the rails turned out by explosions, shattered the broken cars, and the turned boxes of switchmen. After the RAID one or two way repaired and the movement continued. On some station, at night, have become hook up our trolley. The workers were cursing: "What kind of idiot could have put the car in the middle of the train when he should go to Hamburg!"Now the car was attached to the freight train going to Hamburg. Put it in the back somewhere. Margaret went to ask when the train goes, the answer was unknown. The Board was diminished with alarming speed. Men found that some car is a products. I already not remember, that they brought at night, but remember, that we were dying from of fear – and that, if they get caught soldiers. The train rolled again.


A miracle happened-we came to the freight station in Hamburg! Hundreds of cars were on the railroad tracks, protected by soldiers. Howled air RAID siren, to run and nowhere to hide. Bomb trucks flew past. We all clung to each other. Then the man ventured while Solda you're hiding, to get into nearby standing car and buy a pig. As it was made, they didn't tell. (Dad never was proud of all the illegal things he had to do, saving us from hunger.) After a long time the men returned with the loot. Two pigs have been very supportive of our families for a long time. The next day dad called aunt Alice. The shoemaker's family, Veronica and Marguerite stayed in the car, and our family went to the station, where we met aunt Bertha . On both sides of streets there were burnt spans of houses. Broken bricks, fragments of walls lay in blocks on the sidewalk. This was a graveyard of homes. We walked in silence, with horror looking at broken city.










Somewhere, a lone surviving house stood proudly among the ruins. We walked the blocks of a dead city.  Aunt Bertha told me that during the big RAID on Hamburg, when 70% of the city was destroyed, all burned, and the intense heat drew people running, turning them to ash. Fortunately, they're all on this day visited aunt Alina daughter Nora in Blankenese and survived. Three houses stood nearby intact.
One of them lived my aunt, Alice E. PEC (des Fontaines). Happily we met aunt Alya, her daughter Renata, son of Renata Heino, daughter of aunt Bertha Helga and granddaughter Carmen. Aunt Alice's apartment consisted of a living room, three bedrooms, a small kitchen and a bathroom with a toilet.  In the bedroom, where our family is now located, there was a working room aunt Ali. Earlier, after the death of her husband, William R., she had a great Studio where sewed fashionable dresses and suits for the rich ladies of the world. Now she sewed in the room where we temporarily settled, as the Studio was destroyed, and rich customers were not able to follow the fashion during the war. Pork meat and the remnants of industrial alcohol very useful. We had fun this evening. Sisters, mother, father and grandmother remembered life in Arkhangelsk before the revolution. The next day dad went to the railroad to arrange to send the family of a shoemaker, Veronica and Marguerite in the village of Schwarzenberg in 100 km from Hamburg. In Hamburg, during the daily raids, we all ran to aunt Alina's basement. One day from all the explosions popped overhead, the lights went out, the cellar was rocked like a cradle, the air was not enough and my heart was frozen with fear.


The next day, mom asked dad to see if we could go to Schwarzenberg, there's no bombing. After a short period of time we went there in a passenger train. German Bauer gave us a small room in a large barn.  We slept on the floor.  I ate in the kitchen vegetable soup with onions and a little fried bacon with other "OST"- workers, Russian girl Nastya and the Polish guy. This girl was a "Tomboy" she was doing all sorts of mischief the owners and scolded them mate. Is a master thought, that all Russians such. He was happy when we arrived, my grandmother used to talk like that rude girl. At first, we all dug potatoes. Even grandma had to work. She chose to cut the potatoes and put it in a separate pile for emergency use. I couldn't adapt to digging up the whole potato. No matter how I MOP, so I cut the potatoes. I was angry with my master, and he sent me to watch the chickens. This job is easy. Dad taught me how to drink raw eggs. It is necessary to make a small hole, carefully suck the inside and put the shell back into the nest. It turns out chicken or rooster, I can't remember who, priklepyvayut holes in the eggs. About our doors, on the evening, after milking cows stood six cans with fresh milk. The night when all were asleep, dad a pitcher of each tank was removed from the top of milk (it was almost a cream). Here same we all on waiting lists on a mug of drank this wonderful drink. Washed the mugs, if a drop of milk was on the floor, we wiped. The food gave us little, so they had to sneak to eat. Not far from this farm was a huge highway to lübeck.   horses with cannons and tanks were constantly riding on it. Planes fired at them. Dad persuaded the farmer to dig a gap in the woods to save, if there will be fighting. Dug out a crack with three bends, covered from above the cut down trunks of trees, filled up a mountain of the earth and made a door. The cracks can be freely to sit on the boxes. The Russians were advancing, daily aircraft fired on the highway. Dad noticed that dead horses lying by the road. Dad and the pole, in the evenings, from recently dead horses cut large pieces of meat. In the summer the stove in the barn grandma was frying the meat, cooked soups, with the permission of the hostess, and she suspiciously looked at us and waited to see who dies first. But we flourished and gained strength. My grandfather, Georgy Sokolin, graduated from St. Petersburg University before the revolution. Later he and his grandmother lived in Tomsk (where my mom was born). Grandfather worked as a doctor and was often called to the family of the Kyrgyz. There he and his grandmother learned how to drink milk — Mare's milk and eat horse meat. Looking at us, the hostess took a chance to eat horse meat. After that we began to make sausage from horse meat, some sausages dug that they would be stored longer. Rolled up meat in banks, as Germans did with fruits and vegetables. These stocks of meat then very useful to us. Work on the field has become less and less because of the regular raids of aircraft. When the shooting reached the endless battle, we all sat in a dug-out gap. Brought spare food, blankets, and the hostess gave everyone a pillow. As it is, sitting in the shelter, dad and the owner was horrified, hearing the explosions of shells in the woods. From time to time, they made their way through the woods between explosions to the house to bring more provisions, and most importantly — water. The explosions were closer, the walls fell to the ground. We even have races to learn, will drop a shell near us or fly further. At night heard were whistling bullets. Not knowing what was going on and how long we had to sit here, fear took over all of us.


One night everything went quiet. Dad crawled out the door to watch. The highway went tanks of different shapes and colors. He realized that the British army occupied this part of Germany.








We all sat in silence, afraid to move. Put grandma and women in front, men behind. Suddenly the British will think that our men are disguised German soldiers. At the entrance to our sanctuary, there were soldiers with weapons and forced us all to leave. Seeing that the majority are women and we're all on the sign "OST" (and we also shouted "Herman notes") and, checking the shelter, no weapons, the soldiers on the fingers explained that we were here for two more days. On the second day suddenly roared cars, people fled from the village, yelling "the War is over!!"Our joy knew no bounds, everyone laughed, kissed, hugged, cried tears of joy. Grandmother thanked God, that he again us saved, and is a master thanked all, that no one said, that they Germans. Dirty, tired, but happy we headed for the house. Is a master Melle reserves, what had, and we together celebrated the end of the war.
Dad on the bike went to the village to see if everything is well with the family of a shoemaker, and Veronica. Thank God they all survived. The village was further from the highway, and they have not heard so vividly the noise of battle. The next day she had gone to the pow camp, near to the village. She brought Russian prisoners and told them:"Rob these fascists". Dad tried to persuade them not to break all the property, and take the clothes you need. They called dad "fascist", but calmed down, took clothes and left. Began a powerless time. Russian prisoners and OST-workers went freely, plundered, and sometimes even beat Germans. Every time dad and grandma tried to put up with their anger. The owner was grateful to dad for it. And later, many times, the owner helped us with the food. Nastia now lived in camp with new friends. Came one day and told me that the Russian army is in lübeck and a few days later here come the trucks to take people home. Rita and I were eager to go home to Russia. But all the relatives in one voice said that we will be sent to Siberia. Not wasting time, we quickly Packed up, the owner gave us a ride on two wheels and on foot we went to Hamburg as a railway line from Schwarzenberg did not work. Most of the way we were taking grandma in the car. It was difficult for her to go. Happy, joyful, we headed to our last footpath. But there it was. The British put the guards on the main roads and bridges. To our horror, the Russian soldiers stood beside them. Dad told us to keep quiet or speak German. We have a French surname, direction to Hamburg (documents which indicate place of birth — Russia, it is not shown). Dad, mom and grandma spoke a little French, but not enough to pretend to be French. Before each post we were shaking like autumn leaves. In one village where we stayed the night in the barn, the hostess regretted that we had missed the French family that was here two days ago. We walked every day, knocking out power to more likely to reach Hamburg in. At the entrance to the city we successfully passed the last guard.


Aunt Alice and her whole family were happy that we safely survived the end of the war.













Again, we squeezed into aunt Alina's apartment. In the centre of Hamburg and on the outskirts was a camp for former prisoners. The British supplied these people with food, cigarettes, chocolate and clothes normally.  But the Russians toured the camps, looking at the lists of people with the Russian or born in Russia, power has seated them in trucks and drove to Lubeck on Russian ships. Most of these poor people were put in camps in Siberia. Of course, we could have escaped aunt Ali. But the Germans did not give us cards for food. We did not receive English rations because we lived outside the camp. To sit on the neck of aunt Alice, we could not. Helga, the daughter of aunt Bertha, worked in the police and was able to get us temporary staatenlose (passport). Dad used to bike to Schwarzenberg to the farmer, and he supplied us with some groceries. In Hamburg lived the old emigrants from Arkhangelsk EAL uncle and aunt of panem Stoppy. They had a Villa in the Center have been destroyed in the raids. With their permission, dad went to Wandsbek. The Villa was completely destroyed. But the kitchen in the basement is preserved. Its walls were covered with tiles, the bathroom worked, near the bathroom, a lot of empty coal sheds, probably people dismantled precious coal. A beautiful huge front door survived. Frames and several Windows are preserved. We began to look in the ruins of a Board surrounded by iron to hammer Windows. Found the door to the room, but the roof was open, the concrete floor of the second floor was the roof. At first everything went well, but when the autumn and winter rains began, the water seeped through the concrete and flowed through the walls. Dad found a stove somewhere and ran the pipes all over the room and went out the window to keep the heat. But the walls were always damp, and wet in the winter. The two-story beds were brought from the camp, put them without touching the walls, but the mattresses were always wet. So we lived there for four years, it is not surprising that my mother developed a terrible rheumatism, and I had his signs at 35 years.
In the Center were also other older immigrants from Arkhangelsk: March Hansen with old mother, the young Hellmuth and Gita, who had a daughter, Gisela. Aunt Martha gave us a simple but larger table, several chairs, one chiffon, a bedside table, a double bed and a sofa, as well as a few dishes. Aunt Alya gave mom one of her sewing machines "Zinger". But with nutrition things were very bad. Dad collected from the slop buckets of the Germans scum from the vegetables, mainly the skins of potatoes, rutabagas, sometimes cabbages. Granny carefully washed them, boiled and made into cakes or soup. Again, we were starving. Dad noticed that the abandoned manor house overgrown with grass, and in it bloom beautiful roses and many other flowers. He found a large basket, cut flowers and made beautiful bouquets. Rita and I went to Dtor of Banhof (station) to sell them. It went fine, for the money on the black market, we bought food. But all good things end.










German authorities under the supervision of the British restored the laws. The policeman politely asked if we had permission. Dad said we'd bring it tomorrow. Another two weeks we went to Haupt of Banhof (another station), but there happened the same. Gradually life came to a normal image, the father found work in garage, and mother met Ukrainians and poles in the English uniform living in camp near us in Russian Church. They were not the Russians, but belonged to the British army. They had to cut the overcoat, fit the pants and shirts, they paid for the work of coffee, cigarettes and chocolate. Despite the fact that my mother and grandmother dried leaves from trees, wrapped them in newspaper and smoked this stuff earned cigarette they changed the food. But when the soldiers came and treated them to cigarettes, the pleasure of mom and grandmother would be good to capture in the photo. The soldiers not only had to sew, but they wanted to spend time in a family environment, outside the camp, despite the fact that our situation was very poor. They often brought meat, fish and vegetable canned food. In Hamburg, in the Russian Church, served as Archimandrite Athanasius and Vitaly. With the help of the German police, they helped hundreds of Russian families to acquire documents of non-Russian origin. They rescued people from the hands of the Soviet authorities. They also organized a monastery at the Church, many lonely people wanted to surrender to the Orthodox faith. The service was long, according to monastic rules, but these two saints Archimandrite attracted all belief and tireless work for the salvation of men.
In Hamburg lived the old emigrants from Arkhangelsk aunt Zhenya and uncle Peter Lindesy, they had a son in Germany, and named him Harald.  As all young, he was drafted into the German army in 1941 and died on the Russian front. In Russia, their relatives Lindes could not go abroad and remained in St. Petersburg. They had a son, Harald.  Harald's father was arrested and shot as many foreigners, and his mother and younger brother were expelled from the city as members of the family of the traitor of the Motherland. Harald, living with friends, continued to study at the University at the Department of journalism. During the war he was mobilized in the militia. In Karelia, he was captured by the Finns. When his uncle and aunt received a request from the red cross, they wrote that it was their son, Harald, who had been taken prisoner by mistake. Harald was brought in by ambulance to his aunt and uncle. For several weeks he was fed, and he came to himself. Mine and Harald's grandmother — sisters once lived in Arkhangelsk in the German quarter. Most of the time, Harald spent now with us, in our ruin. He said the old emigrants are very nice people, but they don't understand him. And we, former Soviet citizens, understand every word and joke, because we lived in that" juice".
Autumn came, in our dwelling it became damp and cold. Dad and Harald climbed at night on high trees near the road or in the Park, sawing large branches, cut them into pieces and brought the car home. Once, in a stormy night, they cut down a huge branch that fell across the road.  Police were able to arrest them (to cut the trees was strictly forbidden). Harald called to me and Rita. We stood on both sides of the road with a white material in his hands, to signal if anything. Wind and rain gushing all night. Until the morning they cut this thread. We all got soaked to the skin. Tree burned down very quickly, and coal nearby we the entire already chose. Once dad, in some ruins, found coal, but at the entrance there is a huge concrete block is hung on a thick steel rod. In addition, in the wind, this machine swayed, threatening to fall. The opening was very small. Dad climbed first on his stomach, dragging a bucket, I behind him. He raked in a bucket of coal, shoved me, I'm lying, dragged the bucket behind him, walking backwards, in front of the block. Rita took the bucket and poured it into the bag, which was lying in a wheelbarrow. This process of obtaining coal was very dangerous. After numerous flights on his stomach, we scored a few bags of coal. Getting further in depth was dangerous for our lives.










Renata and Nora, aunt Ali's daughter talked to us about my future and the Rhythm. Both of us grew over the age of school, especially, did not know a good German language. The only way out is to study a hairdresser or a dressmaker, but all these places have already been crowded. Decided that Rita will sew with my mom as she is in Russia she studied sewing. I'm Renata advised to enroll in ballet school since I was in Rostov visited quite successful ballet Studio and even took part in the ballet of "Aida" in the Rostov Bolshoi theatre (how long ago it was). Renata found a good well-known ballet school Annelise Sauer. On a certain day my dad took me to school near the station Sternschanze. Half of the building was destroyed, in the second half preserved hall. Dad paid for a month, and I started attending classes three times a week. The lessons were not very difficult, it gave me the opportunity to get involved in discipline and soften my callous joints and muscles. Pope from all forces fought to pay for lessons. Rita's mom was sent to Bavaria. A friend of the tailor agreed to take Rita to teach tailor art. Mom had regularly sent them money for food, and he taught Rita free
Between all the bustle of life, by chance, dad met Herr Maton on the train. They both met like old friends. Herr Mathon was again in charge of the sugar factory somewhere. "What about vodka?"he asked dad. Immediately they agreed that Maton will send a large barrel malasi in the mail, and alcohol to share. At this time in the Center installed in homes gas. Below, in the bathroom we had a gas boiler to warm the water. Dad equipped with bathroom, as alcohol laboratory.  The first barrel they with Harald, brought from the station in a wheelbarrow. At the entrance put the boards on the steps, opened the front door and pulled the barrel. The hallway floor was out, due to fire cement floor was covered in potholes, the old Board was laying on it that you could walk into a room, and that after the rain, not walk in the mud. Dragging a heavy barrel, they broke all the boards. When they reached the stairs, she turned out to be too narrow. Somehow lowered this huge barrel down. Put it in one of the cellars, as well as a larger tank, which was preparing brazhka. This place dad walled up with bricks, leaving only a small hole so he could crawl through. Every time the barrage was ready, he'd get in there and hand over the jugs of that barrage to Garald or any of us, then come out and close that hole with bricks without cement, so the next time he could get in again. This dad did just in case, if the police was coming. It went fine. Herr Maton organized sending the painters in chemical gallons and brewed a cork with wax. Pope drove alcohol in any firm in Hamburg, and made there officially were sending him some chemical composition. It was not difficult to sell vodka.  The vodka is very appreciated, such a product was in the stores and even the military, which came to the mother to alter uniforms, pants and shirts happy to buy such a product for cigarette, coffee or money. British, cigarettes and coffee can be was to change on that anywhere. A more prosperous life has returned to us.
From Austria the tailor wrote to my mother that if she thinks Rita, he learns to sew, it is not so. She spends more time with his wife in the kitchen. Rita returned home.
Three months later, dad went to ask what my progress in ballet.  Frau Sauer to learn that I and dad had in mind a professional ballet, now transferred me to her big school at Rothenbaumchaussee (Mittelweg), in the centre of Hamburg near the lake Alster. This training was very expensive. But the whole family decided to give me an opportunity to study.
Frau Sauer was shot, the survivors of the Villa. Huge, bright room, two large mirrors on the walls, a parquet floor and machines around the walls. The second hall was smaller, where we were engaged in acrobatics and tap dancing. A vast room where Mrs. Sauer and her husband, Herr Herré, lived, a pianist. A large locker room, a Desk and a luxurious entrance. Mrs. Sauer taught modern dance, Kurt Peters classical ballet and national dances, and acrobatics and tap dance teacher, unfortunately, I forgot his name. In most of the studied girls and only two boys.  The girl had beautiful, curly hair, only one Heidi — straight short. Looked at me a bit like the Scarecrow. Behind me was bent braid with a large black bow, like a Russian gymnast. Here I also learned that all students, even during all war continued training. Even if one room was destroyed during the bombing, Mrs. Sauer hired another room and the classes continued. Both teachers believed that regular training for the dancer-the most important weapon. I'm in the most important time for physical development had no training and endured the hunger, cold and hard work, which disrupt the normal development of the dancer. Then I realized that the "sink or swim" — have struggled to achieve a good level, despite the fact that my body lost its elasticity, the free stretching of the legs and back. I got up at six o'clock in the morning, drove es to ban Dimtor of Bankov in the city centre, from there a tram to the Studio. At 8: 30 began classes to 12 and from 2 to 5-30 PM. Twice a week there were evening classes attended by teachers. In the evening I met with a young woman, Silvia Hummel. She spent the evenings working during the day, and later studied with us in day classes. She helped me a lot. She lived not far from schools. Her mother came to Hamburg from Estonia and spoke a little Russian. Sylvia was the daughter Heidi. They gave me a spare key to their apartment and I could take a break from them and eat my Breakfast. Unaccustomed to such strenuous physical work, I fell on their couch and often fall asleep. They treated me lovingly and kindly when I needed help so much
I gradually came back to normal. Kurt Peters began to teach us the history of dance. Textbooks not was. All recorded during the lesson. My weak German gave me difficulties in understanding and writing, and when I came home, I sat until midnight, looking for German words in the dictionary and taught them by heart. Dad couldn't help me, he was spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, making money. Sometimes Kurt Peters gave lessons in his apartment. Small apartments was occupied by he and his wife Eva, also a ballerina. All the walls, even in the corridor, had being shelved with books. He showed me old Russian pre-revolutionary books of the Mariinsky theatre, not letting them out of his library. I often, after class, rewritten from these precious books important places. A new magical world of art has opened up for me. Mrs. Sauer sometimes invited us to the pianist Gerr Hoffman before his concert for a rehearsal in his house to give us, the students, the opportunity to rotate among the people of art.  Big hall, huge piano, we sat on the floor listening to a wonderful game. Of course, for our pennies we bought the cheapest tickets for his concerts and again enjoyed his music. He also accompanied Anelise and Kurt at their concerts (dance Abend). On one of these private musical evenings I met a middle-aged pianist Bertholt.  Tall, slender, dark shoulder length hair, pale face, beautiful fingers, and piercing dark eyes. When she spoke to someone, her eyes pierced a person's soul. She helped me a lot in the future, with advice and heart-to-heart talks. She lived in a small apartment in the center of Hamburg. The piano barely fit in the corner. I often ran to her, resting, listening to her play the piano. Before the exams, Frau Sauer allowed students to come to the Studio on Sunday to practice. I'm only after the Church came into the Studio to work out a few hours and then met my family at aunt Ali. Russian Church, Studio and aunt Alice's house were not far from each other. I used to rush into training as a hungry beast, with strength, anger and excitement I stretched my legs on the machine, bent back and all parts of the body to achieve the same plasticity. I did not spare myself, I saw that ballet is my only chance to achieve a good future. Every morning I left our poor life in ruins, without comfort, and sitting in es-ban, as if opening a huge door to the blooming world of art and new life. For me, the ballet was like a distant light in a dark night. Despite the fact that friends of our family said that dancing can lead a young girl to prostitution, I tried to prove that the ballet is a beautiful, noble art. As nuns deny earthly life to God, so I denied everything that had no connection with ballet. Young, interesting guys who came to my mom and dad on the case, from the bottom of my heart invited me to the movies or for a walk. But I didn't accept their invitation. First, their company was not interested in me, and secondly, I didn't want to give rise to evil tongues. Harald Lindes once came and announced that he wanted to show the light to his cousin (me). He invited me in the variety show "Alcazar". The audience sat at tables with lights. The rich costumes, wonderful orchestra. Girl's slender, half naked swinging on a swing. I realized what kind of dances people were talking about, thinking that I would go this way. Aneliza and Kurt were planning a performance of our Studio. In the first part of the senior students (this is our class) made excerpts facial expressions of his work without music. I did the comic role of a silly, crazy boy who kept trying to get his hand stuck in the air. The laughter was in the audience during my act. And applause at the end. Hamburg critic in the newspaper noted my talent. In the second part Anelise staged a children's ballet "Naughty bird". I danced the role of mother Earth. It was a decorative dance full of different feelings. The Hamburg critic, Herr Grammont, wrote a commendable criticism of me in the annual magazine of art.  This performance encouraged me very much, and gave a charge of internal energy for the continuation of the movement to my goal.

English ballet for English soldiers was to arrive in Hamburg. The show had to go samspil House as the Hamburg Opera house burned during the war. Kurt Peters said that he has a friend who works in the theater, he can put him in a breather booth. The British were able to hold of German girls. Aunt Ala gave me a few pounds (once, many years ago, she lived in England). Me, Hedy and Inge armed themselves with this money. Hedy lived not far from the theater. Her mother opened the chest and pulled dresses, hats and gloves. All the clothes were, of course, outdated. But we could not go to the theater in our modest everyday dresses. Hedin's mom cheered us up and dressed us up. Our idea was to stop the British soldiers, give them pounds and ask them to buy us tickets and go to the theater. We're an hour early. In ticket office sat German girls. We asked to sell us tickets, saying that our Boyfriends would come later, but were refused. The military began to come, many with English or German girls. We needed three men. None of us spoke English. As time went on, we began to stop war, to show them the money, they laughed. Only late ran to the cashier. We, absolutely confused, did not know what to do. The first bell rang. Suddenly see two officers coming, we're touching faces and wailing voices began to explain to them how important it is to us, the students of the ballet, to see this show. One of them spoke German. Looking at the money, he said it was old money. We were so disappointed that they bought us tickets. We immediately told them we need only to hold and to sit we can separately. The tickets were numbered and we sat in the middle of the first balcony.







In "Le Sylfide" the soloist Margot Fontaine was great. We sat rooted to the spot, trying not to miss any movement.  For me it was the first ballet in many years after the theatre in Russia. In the interval, our officers invited us, if we want to eat, we all chorus said, that smoke in the foyer-poorly for muscle, we better sit here We have become to think, that us to do, if officers invited us far any. Bell.  The curtain has opened, we again feasted his eyes on the scene. Only after the ballet and applause we noticed that the officers did not return. Happy, happy we were ready to dance on the street. Inge and I took Hedy home, and I slept over at Inge's. The next day, on Sunday, I went home. My clothes are from Hedi and I in this masquerade came to me. When I talked about our adventure, everyone was rolling with laughter. The next day we were told in school, how did you get to the best seats in the theatre and everyone, especially Kurt, was jealous.
Mrs. Sauer began to invite me when she taught in children's classes, it is very useful to me in the future. After some time at Hamburg came to the French ballet, Roland Petit. The French with such a temperament was dancing that the hall was buzzing with applause and shouts of "Bravo, Bravo". After the performance, we went behind the scenes, kissed all the dancers, I still have the imprint of Renee Jamer's kiss on the program. She was fabulous. The Germans had the right to buy tickets, but the first performance was for the English, and the second in 12 hours the night began for the Germans. Despite this, the hall was crowded. This time we all slept at Hedy's. Better to say that, arriving at three in the morning, we were so fascinated by the ball that lay together on the floor, but couldn't sleep. The French ballet made a great impression on me. He showed me that ballet can Express all sorts of human feelings.









The Russian Church lived argyreia chauffeur and houseboy in a Church service, Ivan Petrovich, 'chenko. Simple, they are rustic, but cute and kind. He fell in love with Rita, and after some time their marriage took place. The newlyweds settled in the camp q:a: About Dimtor of Banhof.

I successfully graduated from the school of professional ballet in three years. In early 1949, almost all the students of our class began a master class: training daily and in addition we studied the repertoire of classical ballets with a course of Peters. He also taught us the shorthand for dancing, written by Rudolf von Laban. Frau Sauer was offered to us on the art of choreography, we had to choose music and make a dance. For example, for" Why " Schumann, I did the choreography myself and showed it myself. It was very useful to me later in my professional life. Kurt Peters began to prepare the ballet "Carnival" by Schumann for the graduating class. I danced Piero and Coquette.










The Hamburg journal on the front cover appeared my picture Coquette. Samspil in the theatre I danced in "Popen fairy" ballet and in the ballet the then fashionable "death of a soldier." About my speeches were good reviews. Aunt Ali, an old immigrant, knew the Parisian ballerina Egorova. She wrote her off and asked me to go to her school in Paris. We have received a letter of invitation from Egorova, what can I learn in her school, but housing, food, and a broad waste she could not take in their duties. And I had a chance to get to Paris. But an old emigrant, a former officer of the Royal army Kotomkin, who lived in Paris for a long time and earned his living singing Russian epics to the accompaniment of gusli in Russian restaurants and Nightclubs, explained to me that without money and French language, I very quickly find myself on the street. As the cold water overturned it on a boiling flame of my soul. Remained only dreams.


This year, Germany held Warungs Reform. This pre, that money have changed. Who was in the Bank a hundred marks was given one. A lot of people lost their jobs, and dad in the garage was cut.  Vodka business for a long time it was finished, as the smell of brew and pouring the waste production of moonshine aroused the suspicion of neighbors, one of them reported, and the police visited us. Thank God, bricked walls did not give up his secret. Mom lost German clients. I went to speak with Mr. Herre, husband of Frau Sauer. He explained that if he gives a respite to me, he should give to everyone, and it is necessary to pay for the room and there are many other expenses. I was in despair. Mrs. Sauer came to my rescue, she found a young lady who wanted to have private lessons twice a week in her apartment. I went up to the second floor round a large staircase. The door was opened by a servant. Huge hall, black open piano, soft large sofa and armchairs, drowning soft carpets on the floor. Large vases with fresh flowers. I'm waiting for.  A young, thirty years old, beautiful blonde in a satin robe. We sat down, she asked me to tell about myself. I look forward to starting the lesson, but she says she's tired today. The servant brought tea and delicious buns. I think I lost my time in vain, but she paid me the agreed amount and told me to come in three days. This kind, sweet woman was surprised at my insistence on studying ballet. After a while she said she has a friend, and he had a gesheft (the deal) in the Russian zone. If I could teach him Russian language? I agreed. On the way home, I was scared, I didn't come Russian school, how am I going to teach him.  But grandma said, "don't worry, I'll cook you lessons, and you're going to teach him". The Secretary met me at the entrance. Herr West turned out to be a nice old man. He needs to know the Russian alphabet, read simple phrases and write. I have to write a few different phrases and sentences for the commercial case.










Grandma prepared all this for me. Two lessons a week I did during the break in ballet from 12 to 14. I also taught ballet four little girls in the Center. Mrs. Sauer gave me two children's classes to teach, and when she and Kurt went on a dance tour, I was in Junior high school and I earned enough to pay for the Studio and buy a monthly train and tram ticket. My family kept me at home. I remember in the locker room I used to eat two pieces of bread and one raw onion.   In those days, when I taught Russian language and ballet instead of Madame Sauer, I ate bread and cold potatoes, so that the smell of onions did not strangle my students. Girls and teachers at school probably hated that I smelled like onions in class, but never gave the form.
Venya began to call to us, your philosophical and religious views, he tried to convince me. We have continued discussions on these topics. Once, he read me written them fairy tale about Olga (wife Harald). He exalted her like a goddess. Her eyes were always before his eyes. Her delicate, almost transparent body he'd like to snuggle. She enveloped him with her magical powers. A fairy tale in verses was perfectly written. Reading fairy tale, he shared their feelings with me.
Herr West was going to the Russian zone. Grandma wrote him many useful suggestions for the business. In the last lesson, before he left, he gave me 20 marks instead of the usual three. I was touched. On the way home, I drove to Rita's in the camp and gave her money for a dress. Dad and mom spent a lot of money on my studies, I wanted to give her a gift. Life became increasingly harder. People living in displaced persons camps, had good food and parcels of second-hand clothes from the red cross. We for all time got only two small parcels from the Russian Church. The Pope categorically afraid to live in the camp, not trusting the Russian Communists. Life has shown, as he was rights!
In the Center began to rebuild broken homes. We could move into a new apartment when it's rebuilt. But the price was very expensive. Many families had visas to America to call their friends. Our family no one wanted to take on their visa, as we had an old grandmother and disabled dad with a broken back. Our friend lady Nekrasov worked in UNRA, she said that Australia needs help. She also arranged a contract mother and I (married women's contracts were not given and I was underage, I could not give a contract) My family is grateful that she helped us to travel to Australia mom and Dad told me that, certainly in Australia, there is a ballet, and they will help me. At the appointed time we all went to Seedorf camp, to get a Commission in Australia. Waited a long time in the queue, finally, we got the call. Australian woman and the translator looked at our profiles. First my mother, then in turn, me last. The interpreter asked about my profession, although the questionnaire indicated that the ballerina had completed a four — year professional course. She looked at me and out of her glasses and said, "there's no ballet in Australia. You will be a servant, a contract of 2 years". I have buckled its feet, I silently commanded, not quite understanding my position. At night I dreamed a terrible dream, covered in sweat, terrified I woke up.  The next day, crying, I told Sylvia what had happened. She said I could live with her. From Berthold (pianist) and Benjamin said to marry me, he was so and so needs a wife to go to California. Many friends he said, "What kind of parents are for their own good forced daughter to go with them." I went crazy. I've lost my mind. My girlfriends in ballet, not realizing the seriousness of my position, saying, "Stay." Venya and I went back to Berthold. Venya was just talking about California. Berthold asked him if he could support his wife. His answer was,"It should work, too." Berthold explained to him that I should not get married just not to go to Australia, and to stay here in Germany, without the support of the family is impossible. On the way back he called me: "Tamarochka, my kitty, we'll figure it out. Just don't say anything to your parents and refuse to travel to Australia." For the first time in my life, I took an unforgivable step of insanity without sharing with my family. For Veni I was the easy production. In absolute madness, fear of losing their job that is so hard, I got it, I went in and refused to leave. In the evening, on the same day, with sobbing, I presented the refusal to my family.
They didn't know what I was talking about. She cried and begged me to go. Like Berthold, I was told that life without family support would go to naught. Grandma said that the Lord God kept the whole war and even United our family, and now you want to break all of us. In one voice they said, that, too, will remain with me. I sobbed and promised to try to get my papers back. Dad borrowed money from aunt Ali just in case he had to pay a bribe. At these times, people who did not have the opportunity to travel, sometimes bought visas. Dad bought flowers and good chocolate. With charm and ability to approach women, he presented gifts to the German Secretary, the interpreter and still someone. Fortunately, the paper of the see-Dorf has not yet been dispatched in the Munster camp. My mom went to aunt Gita's, and I went to my own ballet school. As in Rostov, coming up to Tkachevsky the alley, and then, my heart skipped a beat, breath and sleep the rale in the chest. Saw eve (wife of Kurt Peters) and girls all shouting: "Tamara came, she ain't coming." But I have disappointed them. I went into an empty room, holding the machine, excitement I was shaking hands and feet. In his ears rang the voice of Kurt Peters, the team sometimes came to the Creek, and everything began to whirl before my eyes. When I recovered, I wiped the sweat that covered my face and my entire body. The last time I saw a large bright room with mirrors, where I worked for several years every day. I wanted to stop time, to freeze. But I left the room and closed the door of my life forever. From the locker room, I went with Eva and Peterchen to the Bureau. Herr Herre gave me a photo of Annelise Sauer and Kurt Peters, they were on tour. I said goodbye to him, to Marianne and Walter (they both already had an engagement at Cologne Opera.) I looked back, seeing the school building. Eva taught in the winter garden a new class the history of dance.










I went to Hoevelaken in Wandsbek, aunt Martha were crying, saying goodbye to me and mom. Amy Kapka has blessed us in a distant way. The last time I gave a lesson on Pointe to my twelve disciples. Frau Mueller and the girls were sure that I will be back soon. Mutti went to see aunt Alice, and me and dad went to say goodbye to Hedy. Again Huner post again wobbly ladder EDINOGO home. Her mother, as always, accepted us with open arms. Hedy wasn't home. "Go into Shauspielhaus, Hedi there," said her mother. The play just ended, I saw many friends, everyone was surprised that I quit my profession and leave. Gert, our coach, was looking for Hedy, too, so I went backstage to find her. I knew every corner of this theater. The smell of backstage dust was familiar to me. In the closet Hedy was not, but Raititi (Rita Judice) and Tony and Uta were there. Enormous joy was accidentally see their. Jutta loudly proclaimed: "This is wrong, it is unfair that so much talent you're forced to quit ballet. You have to dance."






We walked with dad along the familiar streets. Blisters on my feet were burning from a long walk in tight shoes. But I didn't notice the pain, I was drinking the last night in Hamburg. We slept over at Alice's aunt's. In the morning mom and I went to Berthold. Mom thanked her that she helped me a few years of advice and was a loyal friend. Berthold said: "Tamara, I am not afraid for you, with your willpower, with your hard work and with the family that supports you, you will achieve your goal. Tamara, Venina leg will never cross my threshold again. Do not judge, do not blame yourself, he did dishonourably, knocking you off the right path." The last time she played us a couple of sketches on the piano. Listening to music, before my eyes flashed many hours of conversations where I could tell her all his soul, and her friendly advice. With tears of we hugged. "Nun mousse BRAF Zane" were her last words.
On the way we went to the gallery, where there was an exhibition of Rembrandt. Pictures of old masters always fascinated me. Then we went to see — Dorf. Dad was helping aunt Alice with something, he's coming tomorrow. The train was running, flashed Domtar, Haupt of Banhof, street Hedi, Hunter Post, the latest view of the Alster lake, Petrikirche, then started flickering outskirts of Hamburg. Each of these places reminded them of something special, and most importantly, that all that has passed will never come back.
... Goodbye, beloved city.
Farewell, the raging of the region.
Farewell, art and all the joy.
Goodbye, all my friends.
(It's written in Italy, 9-20 November 1949.)


Our family waited in the camp see–Dorf. The loudspeaker called the people who will go to Munster camp. Trucks with military in yellow uniforms arrived. We began to distribute as arrested. Our turn was one of the last, so we had a long time to sit in the fresh air. Clear, quiet night. Not paying attention to the conversations of the audience, I looked at the dark sky. Stars twinkled, as if talking to each other. I wonder if there's something behind this mysterious space. Finally, we fit in the trucks. We were brought to the station and put on a train, the trip was quite tedious, despite the fact that we were given a separate coupe Rita and Ivan.
In camp münster all fit in the auditorium. Tired people slept on chairs or on their knots, waiting for something. The view was terrible, as if it were evacuated during the war. At four o'clock in the morning we got our room number. Had to very far pull things. Room on forty beds with dim lighting, it was difficult to find a room of his bed. We only got the upper bunks. The situation is terrible, and the mood is even worse. Tired, we lay down to sleep. Through the day we were able to have the grandmother on the bottom of the bed, and later got a smaller room, a family of four. The whole day passed all sorts of medical Commission.  In the morning, all taught English. I has found itself room, where after four hours could to train. The camp is surrounded by coniferous forest, the weather is wonderful.  My mother went into the woods, walked toward the women with baskets full of mushrooms and of bundles of sticks. Deep in the forest the sun rarely penetrated the trees. The air is saturated with coniferous smell. Pine needles, long since fallen, like a carpet that covered the earth. In absolute silence soul rested in this fairy-tale forest.
Quite unexpectedly announced to our rooms to go to Italy.  Our family moved to the queue. Yugoslav Stoyan helped carry things. While waiting for the next order, he told mom that has a great feelings for me and serious intentions. My mother replied that he was much older than me. "Then I'll be your family friend." Stoyan is a very kind, considerate person. But I was not up to it. The wound of the heart was very fresh. From camp life like to flee without the heads back in Hamburg, to ballet and friends. But duty to the family has stopped my dreams. In the middle of the night began to call numbers and to seat us in rigid sedentary cars — a route Italy. Quickly flashed trees nor and the city of Germany. When the fog cleared, it became visible the mountains of the Ruhr and southern Germany. It was a Sunday, when we drove through the Bavarian. The population was in national dresses to Church. Small orchestras played familiar motives. In some places, in the squares, groups of people danced traditional dances for the audience. Charming paintings. The train was carrying us further and further into the mountains. In the valleys clear streams wound like a snake and shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow in the sun. We climbed higher and higher, a thick fog covered the forest, the frosty air rushed into the Windows of cars. On the tops of mountains was snow.
On the border of Italy all locked in cars - our transport was transferred to the Italian office. After the border was evident dirty station, poor. But in big cities, clean huge stations. Three days later we were approaching the capital of Italy. Nero, after a fire in Rome, built a new city on seven hills. We really wanted to take a look at this creativity, but our train stopped at the outskirts of the freight station. Warm clothes Packed, because the sun baked through the Windows.
By the evening we arrived in Naples. Our train stopped near the camp. Poverty in the city has made a terrible impression on us. Women, children, old people begging for alms, bread or cigarettes surrounding our train. It was quite dark when we arrived in camp and 300 people were placed in the school hall. After four days of riding in a sitting car, we fell asleep instantly. We were awakened by the warm southern sun. Bright light streamed in the large Windows. One hundred and fifty-two-storey beds standing like trees in the forest. A buzz of conversation fell silent only at night. But snoring, as echo, was carried entire night.  Like ants everywhere was swarming with people. Outside there are huge white buildings, flower beds in the middle and on the sides. Behind a wide, huge staircase. Looking for solitude, sitting on this staircase, I watched the lights of boats, steamboats and lighthouses. Where are they going and who are they taking? I wanted to go back to Hamburg, afraid of the unknown future. Here we were, both in prison and Italy watched from behind bars. It is forbidden to leave the camp. Only once was a trip to Pompeii organized. Mom, me and Stoyan joined the band. Historical, destroyed buildings, columns, stoned streets-I could not believe that I see a culture that flourished many centuries ago. I dreamed: with all our ballet Studio in white togas we could create a Symphony of the world — Pompeii. I bought a card and sent Hedy away, and I sent myself a picture book. In the camp all in turn had to work in the kitchen — wash dishes and clean vegetables. In the kitchen was a terrible smell of rotten vegetables that were piled in the corner. Only once a week men shovels loaded smelly vegetables in the truck. The floor in this corner was not cleaned and threw the new scum there too. Seeing the dirt in the kitchen, I couldn't eat in the dining room. Mom and dad began to take English lessons from a friend, Stoyan. Petrovic and his wife, German, cultural people, dad often talked to them on interesting topics, and we were listeners.    I from the very first days found an empty corner in our bigger hall, holding on to the bed, continued training. Announced transport. Stoyan, p., Novikov, Deer made the list. Stood before leaving gave me 1,000 lire, to I has bought itself green straw am informed. 3 weeks later came the next transport, our rooms were 526-532, including Rita and Ivan.
20.11.1949 In the resurrection at the hour of the day, everyone gathered in the square, the Luggage had to drag over a long distance. Our turn was with the sixth truck. Sadness seized me: not only will there be no return to Hamburg, where I got a profession and found friends. Again all expensive, as in Rostov, it is necessary to leave. We are all leaving Europe, to which fate will not bring us. But curiosity and the desire to see other lands were fire in the heart.

Naples is a beautiful city of architecture. Wonderful view of the sea, on the balconies of the outskirts hanging linen. SKO ro gave us a lift to the pier. The mighty steamer "General Housen" was waiting at the pier. Counting all the numbers, sent us to the cabins. Mom, Rita and I, as well as Nina Persic in-law with whom we met in FISHBASE, was in a cabin with other women. In General, it was not a cabin, and the hold of the ship. Beds, as hammocks, yet in three building. They are soft with white sheets, and each life jacket. Dim light, ventilation unimportant, turn. de, not to mention a place for things. Sailors working on the boat, sleep in the same conditions, but they have no Luggage, as we have. Just remember pamphlets in the Australian EMBASY: cabins for six people, a beautiful table – where is it all? Upstairs, we found our grandmother Nina (Unicco).  She was placed in a cabin for four, along with a woman and a child. The cabin is very comfortable, room 25. Only women with children and the elderly were placed in real cabins. Men, as and women, were in the hold — several hundred beds. "General Chosen "- a military ship. All had to work in the kitchen and in the dining room. Mom and Rita worked in the Laundry room. The work is not heavy, but very hot. When mom met with the team, the sailors asked her to wash and iron them for that little pay. I was sent to clean cabins where mothers with children elderly people settled down. I met a woman in grandma's cabin, and she let me take an empty bed. That's what I was watching over her daughter the night she wanted to spend time with her husband. On heart of cheered up, grandmother, too, was is happy, that not one. Mom has me working on a children's kitchen, along with Nina of Persic (she is a Russian woman married to Marian from Yugoslavia, both young, cheerful, interesting people.) After work Nina, Marian and I had fun and joked a lot. She introduced me to a young Czech from Switzerland, Mirko. Very cute, modest. But I didn't want anyone to get acquainted. From the first week I began to train in the cabin, but the place was not enough. I had to find a place to practice. But people swarmed everywhere, nowhere of empty area.
Working in the kitchen, I met a Negro cook and his assistant, very cute. Koe-how I explained to them that I need a place to exercise. They took me to the officers ' mess mate told me to do in the officer's lounge between two and five o'clock mi the night is the only time when the room was free. I set the alarm, when silence prevailed on Board the steamer, and were engaged in more than an hour. In five hours came the first change. One day, approaching the living room, I heard the sounds of the piano, and there I saw that tall, slender Negro plays the piano perfectly. He earned money by washing the dishes. Night, when the hall is free, he practiced classical music. In America, he could only play in restaurants. I was very sorry for him.  Our steamer was not equipped for entertainment. There was no room for sports, games and other activities. Everyone worked, taught English (teaching very low, because the teacher himself did not speak English perfectly), the rest of the time people were moving from corner to corner, not knowing what to do. It is impossible to sit in holds where someone sleeps. People took out blankets on the deck. From the hot sun hung sheets, like a tent. In General, the deck looked like a Gypsy camp (folding chairs were only on the officer's deck). The evening was a movie showing. Very romantic, full moon, stars covered blue the sky. The waves Shine in the moonlight. This charming painting distracted me from the film. Nina and her handsome husband were great company for me. Young, cheerful; with Nina after work, we joked, played the fool nothing better to do. When Nina started working at the hospital on different shifts, Marian and his friend, Mirko, sang me songs on the lower deck. I am very glad that this lovely company gave me the opportunity to have fun, not to be alone among the elderly friends of my parents. A lot of young people talked to me or invited me to the movies. But with Ninina company I had the opportunity to know many people and not to retire with anyone.
Our first stop after Italy — the port of Tripoli. It's nice to see the land after a long swim. In binoculars you can see rich villas, chic restaurants surrounded by palm trees. Small cat EP brought to us by Arab pilot, and he took our steamer in the harbour. Brilliant white teeth of handsome Arab sparkled against the background of his swarthy skin. The whole team of the ship went to the city, we have to settle for the purchase of carpets, sandals and all sorts of trinkets. By evening, the boats with the Arab seller mi sailed away, their cries finally silent. Wonderful evening, not stifling, but warm. Hanging in the air for silence.  You remember the Russian southern nights. Only waves coming from the far ocean pump the steamer.
The next day, at 2pm, we gave the last whistle and the boat began to cut through the waves. Mono ton life of the ship continued. A beautiful sight opened before us. Dolphins jumped, flying like birds in the waves in front of the steamer. For hours it was possible to observe this spectacle. Going to Australia, my whole family was hoping that Ivan, Ruthin husband, will change the attitude to her. But here the families were separated, and he became even more jealous of her. Not having the intimate life on the boat, he tortured Rita scandals.

Again with joy we saw land on the horizon — port said. The features of the city began to emerge clearly. Sailed the boat and pilot on the ramp rushed armed police. It's like they were afraid to leave the steamer without supervision on their sacred land. Didn't manage to stop the engine of the ship and wave still shook him like, out of nowhere, hundreds of boats from all sides surrounded us. BCE boats are full of goods. Especially we were amazed by the variety of leather goods. As annoying flies, buzzing sellers in front of us. As insidious prisoner, they surrounded the ship and did not want to let go of his entourage. We bought a bag, and I bought some more braided white shoes. Some of the money that we have changed in Italy, gradually melted away. Again waves of, water, on the horizon one water. There seemed to be no end to the ocean. Third Sunday on the boat. In the morning, still twilight enveloped the sleeping on the deck of the people I went to train in the officer's lounge.   And now Colombo. The approach of India was felt throughout. In doubles the air spread the smell of the fragrant fruit. The steamer began to approach the boat. Their boats (rather rafts) are built of several logs, between which a large space, the ends are connected. These rafts were Hindus, the body is covered with triangular white material, a kind of wide trousers, and a white turban on his head. Skin so black, even with some purple hue. Unfortunately, I had to interrupt this spectacle by going to work in the kitchen. When he came back, I couldn't squeeze all the places around the sides were filled with customers. People were running, screaming, something to buy, baskets on ropes, one after the other up on the deck. I went to the partition for separating the crew from passengers D:P:, climbed the forbidden border and watched what was going on downstairs. The Negro pianist stood beside me and presented me with a small black wooden elephant. "Souvenir," he told me. I was very touched. Continuing the observation, I felt very sorry for the Indians. Their life is hard, they work for pennies on plantations, factories, and here they sell to the poor E:P: their goods. And on ships with wealthy passengers, such things probably do not buy. Dad took a few photos with Hindu police. At six o'clock the Americans returned to the ship . After some time the coast of India farther and farther began to move away from us. Before we knew it, began seeling. Many argued when we pass the equator. When the pitching was over, while the little people were arguing, the steamer broke the last waves of the equator. Over the loudspeaker the captain congratulated all with the crossing of the equator. Us, youth, was it's a shame, that other steamboats note this famous transition different customs. Father, mother, grandmother and Vanya crossed that all is going well. In the evening we formed our company and have baptized many with water, and the Pope gave all a shot of vodka. Nice passed this evening, sang, laughed, told jokes. Marian told me that the artists should come to the office. A few days went to the concert. Dina, daughter of Myroshnichenko's father's friend, played the accordion and sang. Found a pianist to accompany me the classic waltz" noble " Chopin, and Russian dance accompanied me Dean. I had a couple of suits with me. The performance went on deck, in the room where the film was shown. The next day the concert was repeated for the team in the officers ' lounge. I was worried that I was gonna fall off Pointe trees with a big Jock. The concert was pleasant to all. The pianist told me I could be a star in America. Dad took pictures of me with the team and the captain.
Nice runs wave after wave,
When the steamer pushes them,
And the sea carries away the foam with a,
Like a memory that melts.
On the horizon a thin strip of land. All rushed to the Board to be the first to see the shores of the vast continent after a long journey. At five o'clock in the morning was the last Breakfast.


The Des Fontaines family arrived in Melbourne, Australia on 22nd December 1949.

The steamer was moored to the pier of the Melbourne 22.12.49. The day was overcast and the soul went dark Council. It timidly, afraid that will bring us is a foreign country. I wanted to lose all the difficulties of the past. I wanted joy, happiness and freedom. But depressing uncertainty hung over us. In the eyes could still hear the harsh bare cliffs of the coast of Australia. The waves caressed them, and were dashed to pieces at their feet. And with noisy foam rolled back along ocean. We were called by numbers. As a herd, pairs, people with knots, suitcases and baskets set foot on a new land with hope on the future. The tiny creatures seemed we compared the magnitude of the steamer "General Hausen".  The whole team, both blacks and whites, waved to us from the deck.









Everybody fit on the train. The cars are clean with soft seats. Whistle. And the station began to flash before my eyes. Eagerly we looked out the Windows at Melbourne. Houses with columns or lace mi, as a gingerbread product, decorated the suburbs of Melbourne. Wide streets, beautiful buildings and romantic lanterns. The train stopped briefly. From the window I saw a beautiful building with domes in Oriental style. The Inscription "State Theatre".  Heart froze. There is a state theatre, so there is ballet, Opera and drama. My joy was unstoppable. Everyone shared my delight. There was a hope that having worked two years under the contract as a servant, I will be able to return to ballet.
The movement of trains and new types of Melbourne was distracted by my thoughts. After a long time we arrived at Bonegilla (Bonegilla camp) which was fenced with a wire fence. All have built Men to the left, women to the right, and families with children aside. A chill ran over the body. Is it really necessary to go to distant lands and to get back to camp, in Germany. One of the organizers continued his welcoming speech. But people had dark thoughts on his mind. We were assigned to clean the iron barracks. In every about twenty beds. At the first rays of sunrise iron barracks so heated that it was impossible to sit in them. We escaped from the December heat in small tents or in the shade of trees. Despite many hungry years in Germany, we could not eat fatty, abundant food, especially lamb meat. But a few days have adapted to eat fruit from cans, bread with jam and milk. Everyone in the camp got a job. Heavier men and women in the kitchen or in the dining room. I made every effort to get acquainted with the camp authorities, to go to Melbourne and get there to the ballet.
We cut in the field something like a Christmas tree, but the needles were soft. Decorated this Christmas tree, than could, on the evening in barracks I was having fun all society. With the suitcase in my hand, I imagined I'd be in Melbourne. Then he went to Sasha's house and we were talking about what the future awaits all of us.
Our family, Nina, Marian Persic and Mirko went swimming in the lake. The Director of the camp called art earnestly into his office and offered us to organize a concert for the New Year. Having drawn up the program, we began to rehearse. Here and the heat became us uneasy. But the camp was not adapted for the concert. In the little room where we rehearsed, the piano was broken. Accordionist Leo could play classical music, but two days before the evening he was sent to work. Dina played the accordion, but the notes of new things had to be studied. The time was up, Nina, Marian and Mirko cheered me up. Despite all the obstacles, the concert went relatively well. After the speech our company sat behind your Desk and cheerfully greeted the New Year. Several young people invited me to dance. One supervisor invited me to an out-of-camp party. I said I had a friend, and my mom wouldn't let me. In the course of the concert work, we became friends with the assistant Director of the camp, and he helped my beginning with good advice.











First January 1950.
For lunch we were invited Dina. Pavlik wanted us to cook something special. Later we played ball and at sunset we fantasized about ballet in Melbourne. My papers assistant Director postponed until there is a suitable childless family or an elderly couple, which will give me the opportunity in the evenings to go to ballet training. Mom already had a job with four kids and a sick hostess. My mother insisted that she would not go anywhere until I had a certain place, because I was a minor. Rita, Ivan and dad were immediately sent to work in Melbourne at the fruit factory. I was very sorry that I could not say goodbye to my dad, as I ran to organize a concert when his transport left. After the meeting, New Year, night, our Quartet, Dina, I, Paul and Mirko went to catch crayfish in the lake. Coming to the shore, we froze. The beauty of the night was indescribable. The sky and the earth are saturated with moonlight so that one can discern people's faces. From trees and bushes fell the dark shadow on the wet grass. The lake, like a mirror, reflected the full moon. Only the fish sometimes broke through the surface of the water, catching insects. There was a mysterious silence, which was occasionally broken by birds in the trees, watching as people, like ants, swarm on the ground and frogs, echoing each other. The sky shone with many stars, shimmering pale colors of the rainbow. Looking at this magic, it seemed that the stars multiplied constantly and tried to squeeze into this fabulous world. The breath froze from such a divine beauty. We sat for a long time without saying a single word. Having recovered, laid a white sheet about water. Put a saucer with a burning candle in the middle. Got away and fell silent, waiting for the invasion of cancers into the light. Cancers didn't come out of the water. We could not resist, began to giggle and talk. Drank one bottle of wine on the brotherhood. Having fun, we did not notice how the sun began to rise. Cancers still did not appear. We put together a white sheet and headed for the barracks. Already hot rays of the sun burned our backs. In the camps, you can not avoid crowded people. My friendship with Mirko began to grow stronger and stronger. Its a clean friendly attitude reminded me of my school friends in Rostov.
All four of us went by bus early in the morning and rented a motor boat for a walk. She carried us like a meteor, had to look both ways not to break into the old, long-flooded trees that stood like columns in the lake. We stopped on a small island and imagined that we were the first to arrive in a tropical Paradise. Pavlik and I sat on an old log and roared mi's hand without oars, like primitive people. Swimming, diving and sunbathing in the scorching sun. Stopped by the farmer for a drink of water. Bought honey. Absolutely exhausted and full of joy, returned to the camp. The sun had completely set, but twilight colored paints had played on the horizon.
Under the old a New Year on Russian tradition, we went to Pavlik in barracks might wonder. There was a lot of laughter in the glass with the ring we saw nothing. In the mirror with candles on sides all time reflected our faces, not mysterious knights. The next evening, Mirko and Pavlik went to the cinema in Albury. DIN could not to go.
With Mirko went to the cinema in the camp. Then we enjoyed a drink of lemonade. Mirko's presence brought me joy and calmness, as if I was behind my elder brother's back.
Supervisor I announced that I got a good place at University teachers, the elderly, and without children. He explained to me: by law, if my place is busy, from Melbourne I have to send back to Bonegilla, and do not take another place, if it does not suit me. Mother and I began to pack a few things. It was the last evening in Bonegilla. Wanted to go to the cinema, it was closed. With Mirko, hand in hand, walked along the path to the lake. The evening was warm. Complete calm.  We went silently, afraid to interrupt the silence. Mirko asked for my address so we could correspond. He said I was very happy, I have a family, and he is absolutely alone. We hugged each other. My head leaned against his chest. "I can hear your heartbeat," I said. "I can't hear yours" he replied. "Mine beats just like yours"... for a long time I couldn't sleep. Only now I realize how attached Mirko was. At six o'clock in the morning Mirko already waited for us. Mom called him to the barracks. Everybody in "town" (on the track) the old Russian tradition. Grandma crossed us.







We said goodbye to everyone in the barracks. People wanted me to succeed. Grandma could not go to see us off, she has a bad leg. Mother, I and Mirko walked to the bus, looking back, I saw grandmother hunched, wrinkled, more than before, exhausted hand waved to us. The bus wrapped and for a moment, once again, we saw the barracks and grandmother still standing alone near them. Poor old lady will be left alone, without English, not knowing how long. How much love, care she has already given to all of us. After my grandfather's death in the first world war, my grandmother devoted her whole life to her children: my mother and uncle Leva, and then us granddaughters.
This short time spent in Bonegilla, was the happy, carefree of my life in Australia. Like a ray of sunshine that illuminates my soul the memory of those days.
We already knew that in Australia you can have a good life. I was sure that in Melbourne my ballet profession had the opportunity to flourish; the fear of war and hard life in Germany disappeared. The soul felt freedom and hope for a happy future. In camps — fleeting meeting and farewell, and no one knew, who-where and what people near, good or bad. All were milled in human bag for. But acquaintance with Mirko was special. He never crossed the line. Our sincere friendship has remained a wonderful memory with me forever.


The train was comfortable, with me and mom was driving the girls from Poland and the Czech girls who arrived as Mirko from Switzerland. All were contract workers. Mom was very nervous, one of the clerks in the office told her that Ruthin husband, Ivan, asked officially to it and Rita was sent to another city, not us. The reason is that we are a different religion and will influence their future children. Already on the boat he showed his weird character, didn't trust Rita, watching her every move, and we had scandals. I do not quite calm, kind of the unknown hung over me. But I was saying that Melbourne is a fabulous city and everything will be as in a fairy tale. Teaching supervisor Bonegilla gradually regained my confidence. By law, if my place of work in Melbourne is busy, then I have to send back to Bonegilla and not give another job. My attention was drawn to the flickering landscape of Australia. Endless meadows with dried grass Heat and dust hung in the air. Boring, ugly eucalyptus trees loomed on the blue horizon. Occasionally single, mighty trees widely scattered the branches, creating a cool shadow for sheep and cows. For us, the landscape seemed monotonous and boring. Our train has arrived at Spencer's final station. At the station we were met by Mr. SMIS is an employee of the labor exchange. He announced that my mother's owners will come in an hour, and my place of work is already occupied. My heart's broken. But hold on, Cossack, you'll be an ataman. Somehow, in English I said, "I'm back, Bonegilla!» mr. SMIS said,"There's a family with three children."  I said, " but children. I Bonegilla ago".  Poor Mr. SMEs began to explain to me that children go to school, they are not babies. But I said, "No." He started calling the office from the phone booth in front of our bench where we were sitting. I stood with him, kept the booth door open, so it wouldn't get too hot, and so my mom could hear the conversation, too. After Mr talks. SMEs turned to me and began to show my contract — should I take this job. Poor mom begged me to agree, And I'm like a bull ran and told him: "I am Bonegilla ". He continued to call. After some time, the woman of years of thirty. Greets Mr. With SMEs, and I won't even look. She gives him the cards of her children and says, "Show her." All three of us stand by the phone booth. I looked at the cards and again like parrot: "But children.  I Bonegilla."After long conversation my hostess with anger left. Poor Mr. SMIS kept calling, constantly wiping his sweat off his face. My mother's owners came for her: she will have to work in a family with a sick wife and three children. Mom didn't want to leave until I was determined. mr. Smys explained to the owners that he would bring his mother to them when everything settled down, and, exhausted, he continued to call. Suddenly Mr. SMEs with a smile, which was not on his face since we met, happy, said, what is the place of two elderly people without children. Everyone was relieved at heart, now friendly, we sat on a bench waiting. Cars passed by, taxis brought passengers to the train, many pedestrians passed by. I looked around, hoping to see two elderly people. Don't remember how long we waited, but it seemed an eternity.  Noble suddenly, a black car drove into the circle and stopped in front of us. An elderly man opened the door of the car and helped the full lady to get out of it. They came to us, said Hello to Mr. The SMEs, mom and me. Ifa. Hopkins sat next to me, hugged me with one hand and began to say something. She had kind grey eyes and a nice genuine smile. Mr. Hopkins sat down next to Mr. The SMEs and they about something talked. Mr. Hopkins stood up and explained to me and mom that they wanted to take me, but they can't today. They'll take me to the hotel. They're coming for me on Friday. My mother was at a loss — why not today to go to them. But they were so cute and cute that I gladly agreed. Mr. SMEs drove my mother in Melbourne, to its owners. Mr. and Mrs, Hopkins brought me into the women's hotel Spencer p. the owner or an employee of the hotel brought me to a small, clean room. Bed with a good bedspread, wardrobe, locker with a table lamp. I looked in the mirror and laughed. This is a dream or a fairy tale. I'm in Melbourne, a hotel, resting and not having to work. In the dining room, tables covered with white tablecloths. Women, more elderly, they may be thirty or forty years. All very nice approach me talking, and I don't understand and just smile at them. I wanted to see the city. The curiosity was bugging me. But I didn't know if I had the right to get out of this hotel or not. The next day I went down the stairs, sat on the sofa in the reception room, sitting, no one pays attention to me. Passing women friendly say: "Good morning", I also answer them. I approached the big front door, stepped onto the stairs, stood, and went back inside. The lady at the box office was doing her job without looking up at me. I sat on the couch and decided to go out again. Standing at the top of the stairs, I looked around if anyone was coming to get me back. I decided to go on one side, I look back, but pedestrians go on the Affairs and nobody pays attention to me. After the quarter, I think you should go back, but plucked up courage, and went further along the same street, not to get lost. At the corner I saw an interesting building with domes, the top — weight clock showed different times, this must be the main station Flinder page Going already ago find a used bookstore, I went and bought a small ballet book at two shillings six pence. When I came into my room, I began to copy the movements from this book. The next day I called my mom and promised to go to my dad's in the morning.  I had an address on a piece of paper, I showed the girl at the box office in the reception. She called one lady who brought me to page Flinder station and bought me a ticket. She also asked the door controller to put me on the right train.









In turn, that the controller put me in front of the car and asked the conductor to drop me off at Footscray station. There's a lady who took the bus with me and asked the conductor to drop me off in front of Brooklyn camp. What wonderful Australian people, with patience helped me out, despite the fact that they were not on the road. Dad was waiting for me at the bus stop. Seeing me, he ran towards me. On the run it was noticeable that he is old and heavy physical work breaks it, since childhood, the broken back. He often worked 12 hours a day. (*Dad did not have a contract, he was considered disabled, as the x-ray showed hump in the back. But it didn't free him from work. For many years in Melbourne he is balancing on top, painted factory roof in summer heat and winter cold).
Dad was surprised and happy that I came. His hands and voice were shaking a little. He asked how I got a job, and was very glad that I have a good home. The bus came, I had to go back all the way. The next day, 12.1.1950 dad came to see me, what hotel I stayed. We sat in the waiting room and talked for a long time. Later we both went to put a stamp on his papers and he left.
3.1.1950. in the morning, I took my things down and waited for my masters. Then I decided that I will play the role of workers as the black child in the Russian film "the Circus". My gentlemen have arrived punctually. On the way we stopped at the store. I, like a good little Negro boy, followed the host and carried in both hands of cake, not to drop. Beautiful road meandered along the river. The owner from the window showed his hand and said, "river Yarra," I repeated for him. During our trip he repeated this phrase many times, and I as a parrot repeated it, without understanding it. Drove up to a white, columned house, in front of the house a lovely garden. The aroma of roses accompanied us along the alley to the oval front staircase. Entering the door, I was stunned by the beauty of this fork. My thoughts took me to the Indian or Egyptian Kingdom. All spacious hall and staircase are covered with red carpet with gold and yellow drawings. Beautiful contrast from the light walls. Small tables with vases of different colors, huge soft chairs attracted to drown in them. Up the stairs, Mr. Hopkins showed me my room. A cozy, beautiful bedspread on the bed, a table with a lamp, a Desk, a wardrobe, but no chair, it immediately emphasized to me that I am a servant. Ifa. Hopkins had a sick, swollen knees. She couldn't go upstairs to show me my room. Mr. Hopkins explained to me my duties and in the course of the taught English language. I repeated for him every phrase. In the kitchen tonight, Mr. Hopkins picked up a big yellow fruit, showed one tip, and said, " the North pole, across the South pole, cuts in the middle with a knife, and says the equator."What this fruit has in common with the North, South poles and the equator, I could not understand. But every morning at 6 o'clock I looked at the fruit, cut on the equator, and laid on half on two plates, and also did tea, toasts (dry bread by electricity) and carried to them in a bedroom (even now when I cut a grapefruit, I remember Mr. Hopkin's.) After this light Breakfast Mr. Hopkins got up, and I was helping the Mrs. Hopkins to get dressed. Her swollen from arthritis, the knees and the fullness of the body is heavily loaded legs. Despite suffering, she was kind and took care of me.
Every day Mr. Hopkins was showing me new responsibilities. He assured me he would teach me how to cook. Then I remembered a joke of a supervisor in Bonegilla: "Will ask you to cook, sleep dinner". I cleaned vegetables, washed them, and one day he asked me to cook peas, and they left. I put a pot of peas on the stove, and I went to do my job, and then I went to my room, and I put something in order, too. Suddenly there was an angry cry Mr. Hopkin's. He shouted and waved, I ran downstairs, and, Oh, the horror, the peas and the pot burned. I threw myself at his feet and, sobbing, asked for forgiveness. Only then did I realize what a crime I had committed — the whole house could have flared up. But I was never asked to cook again.
They're both very hospitable. Endless visitors. I made sandwiches and strong Australian tea.  Tray I put on a low table and made a small curtsey (knix). They all smiled at it. Mr Hopkins always reminded that I, too, made myself sandwiches and tea in the kitchen. My stomach couldn't digest that much food. A strong tea I used to drink and didn't love him, but I didn't want to hurt them and choked this tea. They often went to the farm and brought strawberries. Mr. Hopkins will open the fridge, point it at the strawberries, say something, and close the fridge. This was repeated several times. Only when Dina visited me did she translate what he said to me: "You can eat strawberries and cakes as long as you want, just have to ask." They were surprised to see me without permission do not take anything.
But I had other concerns: to please them, to have time to practice and find the state theatre (city theatre which I saw from the train when traveling to Bonegilla). And start there to do.
15.1.1950. By lunchtime, came to their son's Case with his wife and many guests. Fuss was early in the morning. Cleaned vegetables, mountain of pots and dishes. Mrs, Hopkins showed me how to set the table. Has brought very alluring tablecloth, silver and especially a handsome service. The owner himself did all the cooking. I hearth of the shaft, as it should be: on the one hand serve to remove. The next day during the afternoon lunch, there was a phone call. Mr. Case called me on the phone, Mirko called. He explained to me that he was in Melbourne, at a train station. I couldn't quit my job. Mr Hopkins told Mirko to take a taxi and come to the house. The guests left, all the work I had done. Mirko's Here. With good English he spoke fluently with Mrs and Mr, Hopkins.  I made tea in the kitchen, and we had a wonderful time. With joy we interrupted each other, telling about everything that happened during this time. Hopkins (so good) took us to a friend, Mirko, and from there we went by tram in Melbourne to the mother. I was supposed to come home later.
17.1 1950. Mirko went to Adelaide. I couldn't go see him off.
22.1.50. My mom and dad came to see me on Sunday. My masters weren't home. My mother was amazed at what a wonderful house I live in, and what an easy job I have. I made tea in the kitchen, when the owners returned, they were surprised that I did not take anything from the refrigerator. Mr. Hopkins immediately made strawberries with cream and took out cakes.  Mom and dad were touched by this good deed. The Hopkins allowed me to invite my friends for my birthday. 24.1.50. I received the first letter from Enikki (grandma Nina), from Bonegilla. She wrote that the heat it is very difficult to transfer in the iron barracks. She misses me a lot and can't wait to see me. But we can't get her out until we have our apartment.
8.1.50. The hosts went to the store to buy groceries for my party. Mom, dad, Dina, Marijan and Nina Persic arrived on the birthday. The host made sandwiches, cakes, cake with strawberries, of course, in the kitchen. We had a great time, the only pity that our poor grandmother could not be with us. What an unfair fate, Mirko was in Melbourne a few days ago, and I couldn't spend time with him. And on my birthday I was given a free day, and the next day was my day off. In a letter to Mirko and regretted that he was not with us.
Every evening I studied ballet for an hour and a half, stair railings served as a machine. I could stretch my legs well. Downstairs guests often played cards. In flexion of the feet or jumping when he heard the noise. Ifa. Jessy (friend) asked what is that noise? Mr. Hopkins replied,"Having a dancer, there are a lot of strange sounds in the house." Mrs, and Mr, Hopkins were very nice to me. I appreciated it, but I had the main goal — to dance again.  I did not allow the idea that years of hard work in Germany and the achievement of good results in the ballet will go to waste.  If I was a normal girl, you could have the evenings to learn English or to learn some profession. I'm sure the Hopkins would help me. But I was only thinking about ballet.


In February 1950 dad introduced me to the Russian Church with the MS Trunov, old Russian immigrant, very sweet, fun lady. She danced folk dances, and her son, Basil was a soloist of the ballet in Australia (he later became ballet master at the Paris Opera).  Mrs. Trunova immediately appointed a day to lead me to the Ballet, to the Guild Theater. On Tuesday, 13.2.1950, we met in the city. Walking down Burke street, my heart stood still from fear, then almost burst out of my chest from joy. Already rising up the stairs of the theater, I heard the gentle sounds of Chopin from Le Sylphide.  Laura Martin, ballet dancer, soloist in Australia and England, the Director of the Ballet-Guild, sat us down without interrupting the rehearsal. At the moment I have all spinning before my eyes. Dancing, music, hall. One girl, dancing solo, was a little heavy for this role. The second, slender girl, with hops hanging in the air and gracefully played the role of the Sylphide. I felt like in a magical world, not noticing any old building, no shabby planks on the floor, no smell of rotten theatrical dust. Long press on both sides of the hall and a large mirror. At the end of the hall is a relatively large stage, very well equipped. After rehearsal Laura said that I can start studying right from tomorrow — three times a week, 2 shillings and 6 pence for each lesson.  When I was driving home, I was wondering how to present my good news to the owners. Tomorrow is Wednesday, my free day, but other days I will depend on my masters. And the owner reminded me that he came to work on the contract, not to dance. I understood all this, but it was a tragic situation. Australia, Melbourne, ballet, but-contract!    I arrived at the theater on time. Dancers surrounded me and friend began to talk to me. But there it was. Without Madame Trunov, there was no one to translate. Difficult moment. Suddenly from the group, like an angel from heaven, I was approached by a girl, Anna Beckett, and spoke to me in German. The ice was broken. Anya translated, and I told you that I studied at the ballet school in Hamburg for four years. But to get to Australia could only contract workers. All sympathized with my plight, was friendly to me, and taught English language and spoken very quickly. But it was Anya who helped my first steps in the theater. Her parents, Mrs.and Mr. Beckett accepted me into his family as an old friend, especially her mother, sympathetic, wonderful woman. Anya, apparently, she got the good feeling to people in need. Often, between day and evening performances, we went to their tea. They had a cute dog, which is almost always lying in front of the fireplace. I am always grateful to the Hopkins family and the members of the Guild ballet for the fact that the English language they taught me was cultural and well pronounced. Many years later, I noticed in girls my age, working in factories, rough, common English – slang. I didn't speak fluent language at the time, but it was correct.
28.2.1950. I went to see my dad, he was upset. Ruthin husband, Ivan once again asked the immigration Department to have him and Rita sent somewhere from Melbourne, motivating it by the fact that her parents will affect the children, being of another religion. I was sorry that Rita was not lucky in marriage. She often came to us and cried. But we in no way could help her, not knowing well the English language. The next day, I went to the immigration Department to talk about my ballet classes. I asked IFAS. Dixon and Mr. Spencer talk to my host so he can let me go at six o'clock on Tuesday and Friday at the ballet to train. My future professional life was in jeopardy. Mr. Hopkins was very unhappy. I don't blame him, but I had no choice. He immediately gave me a second job: wash your cupboards, refrigerator, walls in the kitchen and baths every day. Perhaps he thought, that I't seek only reasons less work, and go ... I go in ballet for pleasure and could not understand, that I teetered on the edge of disaster. If I don't train for two years until my contract's over, I'll never be able to work in ballet again. Due to lack of daily coaching received in the classroom my technique will lose force and the accuracy of. I've had moments of utter despair.
4.3.1950. Mutti ( mother) on her day off came to an IFA. Hopkins sew her dress, and she appreciated the skill and good taste. When mom visited here, the roughness with the owners was smoothed out.
One day, after class, Laura asked me if I wanted to dance at Le Sylphides. With joy I hugged her and kissed her. In the tram again, I didn't know how to present this good news to the owners.  At home, I told them I was ready to do all the work, but I need a chance to continue my ballet career. Mr. Hopkins wasn't happy, and even though they both agreed to my rehearsals, every time I have to ask their permission.I flew in the class, as if on wings. After class Laura gave us partners to do a "pas de Dieu". I even wondered what else could turn a three of a pirouette. I got a good partner, he helped me in big jumps "Grand jet".
I stayed to watch a rehearsal of "LA MEER". Lorina choreography of gentle, graceful movements fit the music of Debussy. I returned home with the last tram at 12 PM. When I put my tired body in bed, it was only then that I felt how tense the classroom was. I couldn't sleep, twisting from side to side, the soles on my feet were burning, calves were cramped. But at the heart of relief and joy and the hope was that this is the beginning of my purpose in Melbourne.
7.3.1950. Tuesday. I cleaned everything, cleaned vegetables, laid the table for dinner, brought mail and saw the long-awaited letter from Mirko. In the tram I read the letter. He settled in a camp in Adelaide. Fortunately, his room was shared by a cultural person. The work was very heavy, but the details he did not describe and was hoping to get.
An international concert was organized in Melbourne. Dina took part there, she sang and played the accordion. I could not participate, as couldn't get out even on these rehearsals. And the strength I barely had to work and train in the Ballet-Gilde. In addition, I should not have been tempted to perform in concerts. At the ballet Guild, I had a good school with regular practice, everyone treated me well, and Laura allowed me to rehearse at LA MEERA. In the house the tension was building. The host was unhappy, but the Mrs. Hopkins was protecting me. She, poor thing, could not get out of bed, I often massaged her legs and knees. She's the one that eased the pain. Her motherly attitude touched me to tears. In the evenings, when I came back from rehearsal late, I tried to quietly climb the stairs, but she always asked: "Tamara, is it you?". Yes, I will. "Now I can sleep at night knowing that you came home without danger."
Finally, our dear Anicca (grandma Nina) arrived in Melbourne from Bonegilla. She was put in Wiliamstown (family camp), next to the familiar Sikarskie. She could speak Russian with some of mi's family. But most importantly, we all visited her once a week. Gradually its health has improved. It was not Monagroulli heat, and the camp doctor helped her.  And the owner found me more and more work. In the afternoon it was not possible to relax. In ballet, the load was increased. In class we had to Refine the technique, repeticiya had to make up for what has already passed. The ballet "LA MAIRE" beautifully put Laura. Fashionable hand's technique with the classical movement was in perfect harmony. I enjoyed dancing in this ballet. From overwork I have always had a cramp legs. And I've noticed my jumping and batus suffered from fatigue. I was like in a vicious circle, didn't want to offend the owners and tried to do what I could. In ballet I had a rest soul, but my equipment did not improve. At night I could not fall asleep from fatigue and full exhaustion. My mother met friends from Beirut, Madame Poplavskaya and her daughter Ira. They settled down to work in the Royal Melbourne Hospital. In the center-a small kitchen on each floor. The lift raised the trays were made of jelly, laid out on plates, cut the cheese, butter and bread, brewed tea. Also wash the refrigerators, cupboards, and utensils, which is then sent to the main kitchen to disinfect the machines. There were three shifts: early morning, afternoon and evening. I thought about trying to go to the hospital.
My masters began to gather in a trip to England. I was hoping that the free will go to work at the hospital. But Mrs. Hopkins was asked to go to their friend Reconciled, and returning them back to him. I got sick, so I can't go to the hospital. I began to say that I am a bad worker, that I need to go out in the evenings to train, why Miril and they want me to work for them.  Ifa. Hopkins explained that they really appreciate my honesty. Previous servants stole the silver and jewelry. Crying, I hugged Mrs. Hopkins also said that the only way to continue to participate in the ballet is to work in the hospital, and in the evening to train in Ballet Guild.





6.4.1950. We said goodbye friends. Even Mr. Picton Hopkins in tears, he really liked how I was dancing in "Les Sylphides" (I invited both of them on my first statement). They were wonderful people, but I had no choice, I had to fight hard for my future at the ball those. After the departure of the couple Hopkins, I rested in dad's camp Brooklyn.
1.5.1950 my mother and I started working in the hospital on different floors. All young girls, including Australians, had to live in a hotel owned by the hospital (the hotel was on the station Kilda) I chose early shift. This shift bus "picked" us at 4.45 am.  Half-asleep girls climbed into this bus. Beautiful view of Melbourne at sunrise and the blue sea gradually awakened us. The city was still asleep, only a few workers with briefcases hurried to the station. We arrived at the hospital at five. 15 minutes Breakfast in the dining room for the servants and quickly left everyone in his kitchen. By 5.30. I should have made tea for the patients. At three o'clock in the afternoon I finished my shift (one hour for lunch), took a shower and two hours rested on a folding chair in the living room for workers. Then on the tram I was traveling to Burke page and 6 o'clock began a class in Ballet Gilda. Of course, in hospital of was better work, than in private house, but would still, working physically a host day, my tableware, refrigerators, the walls and floors, little energy remained for evening classes. Coming home V11.30-12 PM and getting up at 4.45 am, I was exhausted. But my inspiration triumphed. I danced in every season Ballet Gilda and a lot of time with his partner Vasily Trunov. Dancing with him was like a fairy tale, it is not only a beautiful dancer, but every move your partner knows and is ready to support a joint or dance. At the end of the first season, Gilda Presented me with a bouquet of flowers!    I was touched. Mom and dad loved the play.
Normal Russian youth of my years working as normal people, in the evenings they could go to the movies or meet each other on Friday and Saturday at the dance and Russian balls, Sunday — met in the Church, organized scout troops went on a picnic. I was completely disconnected from the circle of young people, I arranged my work in the morning shift, rehearsals, trainings were evenings. Every few weeks, gild's Ballet had a new season.  Friday, Saturday and Sunday evening performances or rehearsals, and sometimes when I was free, I was happy to relax. I denied myself everything that had any relation to the dance of the goddess Terpsichore. I sacrificed all my young years and my personal life. But I do not regret and never reproached myself, as I learned and absorbed knowledge, everything that just met on the way. I lived the life of the musical, literary and theatrical world. So far, I am grateful to Kurt Peters (ballet master from Hamburg) for developing in me the love and understanding of the historical theory of ballet and other arts. Anelisa Sauer (Kunst.dancer, Hamburg) helped me to find a deep understanding and a sense of artistic choreography.
I am also very grateful to the Hopkins family and all the members of the Gilda Ballet for patiently teaching me English. And I pretty quickly began to speak a good language, not a common slang. But, while all the time in this atmosphere, sometimes I felt like I was choking from the English language.
When I visited my family in the camp, where most of the people family and the holidays drink hard, it made me depressed. Cultured, educated was a matter of quantity. I used to think about Mirko, the way he organized the dance nights. On Easter night, our family enjoyed a solemn service in the Church. Father Tikhon and father Igor could have ignited a spark from the parishioners. Dressy Church was inspired by the solemn feeling of the parishioners. When the procession joyously say, "Christ is risen!"and all responded:" truly resurrected!".  After the service and lighting of the cakes, Sasha in his car, drove us to Rita's to break the fast. The next day the conversation took place in Lage re at Sikorsky. Visiting them was Dr. Alex. It is very pretty, cultural and fun in the company. This night is etched in my memory. When we got in the car, the doctor kissed me on the cheek, saying goodbye. I was amazed and was hoping that in the commotion no one would notice.
My work continued, I rehearsed a lot with Vasya Trunov in ballet, he is a great dancer and partner. But I had a lot of work to do to clear the jumps and pirouettes.












The whole family decided to celebrate dad's and mom's birthday on may 1, 1950. 27.4.1950 Thursday, late in the evening, I went to Williamstown. Took the money for shopping and with Enichka and dad made a holiday plan.  Nina and Mariana Persic were invited, but they couldn't come. There were Sasha, Alyosha, Sikorsky and our family. Alyosha presented me with a beautiful decorative bouquet of flowers. Sasha gave me a chocolate. Alesha talked about the ballet "Red shoes".  Be fun.
In the theater we started to develop a ballet by Vasily Trunov. Movements are complimented and not easy to remember. I came home late all week. Thursday Bob finished rehearsal early. When I came to the hotel reception, I saw a large sitting figure of Alyosha. The supervisor told me that he waited a long time, patiently and steadfastly. We went into the living room. Chatted until 11 o'clock. Both regretted that the shooter was running around the dial…
From a letter to Arkhangelsk Natalia Lvovna an extruded one piece — Leuzinger.
Dear Natasha!
Description of our life in Australia, I haven't finished yet. We are very busy with granddaughters and cares, so that there is no time to sit down and calmly concentrate. I will describe briefly how our future in Australia has developed. Dad, mom, grandma (Nina Sokolin), I and Rita, my husband continued to live in the camp, because it is very difficult and expensive to buy an apartment. Dad worked in a rubber factory. Manually shoved the hard rubber in the fiery furnace. It was a terrible job. The heat and gravity of the rubber he was exhausted, the pain in his broken back was getting worse every day. Many years later he was painting the factory roof in the sultry heat in summer and cold in winter. Only the last years of his work he became a janitor at the post office. Such difficulties immigrants had to endure due to lack of knowledge of the English language. Mom used to sew uniforms at a military factory for years.  At the end of the working contract, I continued to dance and conduct children's ballet classes in the theater. After three years I opened my own ballet school. The beginning was very difficult, I did not speak good English. I taught classical ballet, national dances and modern form of dance (which I specialized in Germany).  Every year, for the concert, I put a new program, new and traditional choreographies of classical ballet, national and characteristic dances. Picked up the right music, painted costumes for all speakers, so that parents could sew. It had to be done, as I didn't have the extra funds to pay for professional help. My school has successfully flourished, and later I had two schools. Two years later, we raised the necessary amount of money and four families rented a house, each family room, but everyone was happy to leave the camp life. In 1956 I married David burns, who came to Australia from Scotland in 1950. My problem with the English language disappeared. After a while, we raised enough money to pay the Deposit for the construction of the house and paid the debt in the Bank for more than twenty years. In our house there was an attached ballet Studio. I had my school for thirty-five years. Dad mom and grandma built a house near us. In winter, the sun warmed and lit the room through the large Windows. Garden with roses and trees decorated the house.







When mom and dad retired they were looking for my daughters Nina and Tatiana. Rita and her family had a house near us. She has three sons, nick, George and Mike. Mom, dad and grandmother, in spite of the hard life here was happy to live in a free and truly democratic country. But always we talked about Russia, especially the grandmother, she to death and never learned English.

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